Lethe
by Chavvah
Summary: Voted Community's Choice at ZeldaLegends. Ganondorf's hand is forced: he must protect Link. But a sinister force is at work and Ganon cannot drive it away for long... CH. 10 UP!
1. opacity

(Author's note: I haven't written Zelda fiction in a long time, so bear with me.

The warnings are of violence, dark themes, and sexual themes. It's a psychological piece, so prepare for creepiness. This is not a "normal" story because I tend to overwork on my fan fiction. If you are afraid of big words and complex themes/metaphors, RUN AWAY.

There is **no **shonen-ai, yaoi, or slash--whatever you want to call it. However, there will be struggling with homosexual feelings. Slash is gay romance-there is no gay romance in this story. I guess in that respect I have a different definition of it, but whatever. I just have a much different purpose for its existence in my story than most authors around here do.

The first several chapters will be pretty clean. It's a bit later in the story when things get dark.)

Din decides to do something interesting and releases Ganondorf, with a few strings attached; he is forced to protect Link while he's free. Ganondorf and Link reluctantly bear with each other, but they both begin to struggle with their innermost secrets. These two separate secrets begin to eat at both of them.

Soon it becomes clear there is something greater growing in Hyrule. A manipulative being is chasing them, and with its unimaginable powers it begins to force their secrets from them. As they travel with their loads, their secrets become more crazed, and all the while, the being reveals its savage intentions.

What will destroy the two first: Their secrets, or their pursuer?

** Lethe **

Open the gates of hell,

let forth the river...

Let they who weep

forget their sadness,

let they who cheer

forget their joy,

let he who drinks have unquenched lips,

let he who eats bear a starving body...

Let forth the river flowing,

let this world forget,

for time itself will pass,

and knowledge will be dead,

for only darkness knows

of the brightest past...

Open the gates of hell,

let the river flow...

Let water consume them

until they know

not anything else.

Let the flow carry them away,

until memory itself is gone.

**chapter 1: opacity**

"As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape." **John Lancaster Spalding**

The curses were again left unheard in the darkness. No matter how many times Ganondorf cursed, the darkness would not reply to him. They offered no comfort or chastisements for his actions. It was only there, accepting every word he reserved for it, but unable to return with output. Once the words and curses were directed to it, there was no way to direct anything back. And, in that way, Ganondorf was more alone than usual.

Ganondorf didn't feel alone at the time, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have cared. The only companion he had here was his solitude and his isolation. It was just he and the darkness, and he had continually showed that he conquered the darkness with his curses. It was he and his _own _world-- This brainchild that lay before him was dark and cold to the touch, just as he preferred. He had somehow learned to fear the light and warmth of the world he was driven from, and now could only embrace this cold and black place to keep his sanity.

Although, he had to admit, his sanity wasn't really there anymore.

He drifted in this cold, named the Evil Realm since he had stripped it of its beauty. It had once been a land of gold, the rolling and massive hills holding their own secrets of divinity. The gods had designed the world he had destroyed and named after himself. There were no hills anymore-- It was only a barren wasteland of discarded memories and traces of nostalgia. The scent of cold water and blood drenched the air until it was thick and hard to breathe. Ganondorf's lungs were laboring constantly to find oxygen in this air. He didn't have to breathe, and he knew this, but it felt natural to do so. His body was useless in this barren darkness, but he tried to pretend as though it was worth something. He was continually deceiving himself into believing that his body needed oxygen, food and rest.

Traveling through this darkness was effortless and ultimately useless. There was nothing to see here. All Ganondorf could do was drift, his mind clicking slowly on, his lips murmuring curses. The years he had spent here finally left him with little soundness of mind left. He had nothing to speak to except the darkness, which had nothing to say. The color of his face and eyes was slowly draining, and his hatred of the outside world was worn.

Although he hated the world of light--although he hated the Sages, Link, and Zelda--the bitterness was too tiring to keep up with. When he first was banished here, he would remind himself that the moment he escaped, he'd kill Link. He repeated this over and over until he became obsessed with this goal, his anticipation for escape becoming stronger each day. But now, these empty promises and threats were meaningless. They had been repeated in vain so many times, that he bitterly accepted that he would never escape, and that swearing to kill Link was not making the circumstances any better. He was tired of making these promises.

He was tired of this darkness, and the threats he made, and the evils he had before embraced. The more he looked at the things he had followed, the more bored he became of them. A complete and ultimate power stopped interesting him. Ganondorf strained to think of something interesting and broad, but could find nothing. He was always a part of the darkness and had no way to escape it.

Evil was boring now, but he didn't know what else to do. And so he drifted, the hopelessness gaining strength as he thought. He tried to remember the light, and the thin air that he once breathed, but the memories were so vague by now, that they became unreal. They were but dreams now. The more he tried to reach for them, the more they distanced themselves. This was his constant frustration and struggle of his memory: His past hated him. It did not wish to be part of him anymore. It had discarded its own name in search of the abyss, leaving him alone with his desperate present situation.

Ganondorf looked up, the darkness swallowing him, and he hissed through his teeth at it. After staring at it harder, he realized something was wrong. The dark was dimming. Light was coming through.

He didn't understand, but he felt warmth glowing in front of him. He blinked casually, finding it interesting but not exciting enough to lift his dreary state of mind. The light was in front of him, but could not be named. As far as he could see, it was an anonymous light that had no purpose here except to exist.

But this light... It had form. It had life beneath it. There was something moving and living in front of him, flashes of red slowly taking form. Soon Ganondorf realized there was a woman standing in front of him. All he could distinct was the outline of her body and her bright, fiery eyes. He blinked several times, but soon recognized the woman and cursed.

"Din," he spat unrepentantly. The woman smiled icily, her image clearing until he could see the details. Her face was pale, and her hair a brilliant red, gold shining across her robes. "Why do you come here?"

"...I was hoping to negotiate," Din slowly crooned. Ganondorf became confused.

"Why?"

"Perhaps you should stay out of the details, and concentrate on _how _it shall be done."

"I have no interest," Ganondorf quickly replied, the darkness pushing him away into the abyss, even though Din was still there. Din continued to stand in the darkness, ignoring his comment.

"You have been here a long time for a mortal mind," she droned, at first falling to deaf ears. Ganondorf stubbornly refused to reply to this observation, and drifted for several minutes before he finally gave up and added onto the conversation.

"How long has it been?" he drearily asked, having lost all sense of time the moment he came here.

"Ten years now."

"...It's felt like ten decades," Ganondorf mumbled, surprised that it had only been ten years, but soon realized that ten years was a long time all the same.

"That is to be expected," Din replied calmly. "Drifters like you feel time much more harshly than most."

The flaming image in front of Ganondorf began to fade, but the presence did not. Ganondorf was not eager to continue this seemingly pointless conversation, so he bitterly silenced himself.

"I can release you, Ganondorf."

Surprised, Ganondorf turned to listen. Why would she release him? He cautiously approached with this question. "Have... I done something to deserve this?"

There was a highly amused laugh that echoed throughout the abyss, and Din again spoke, "It isn't a _reward,_ Ganondorf. It is merely an extension of your punishment."

"Oh," Ganondorf replied deftly, not understanding the logic thus far. It was obvious there was more to it, so Ganondorf waited for her to continue.

"I was recently thinking," Din cocked her head, "What _is _the best way to punish someone such as you? I'm unsure if a mind like yours needs to rot away like this..."

Ganondorf continued to not pay much attention.

"You thrive by your own pride and self-worth. You're too miserable to even kill yourself. So of course, humility would be the most fitting of punishments."

"So... You're going to release me to humiliate me?" Ganondorf raised an eyebrow, not liking this conversation so far.

"...That's the theory," Din replied. "The problem then was... _How_ to humiliate you. I, of course, first thought of what you hate, which is painfully obvious. The very minute you set foot in this world, you swore to kill Link and Zelda, along with many others. So who do you hate the most? The conclusion was particularly quick, Ganondorf."

"I'm sure you think you have a point in saying I hate Link," Ganondorf sputtered impatiently, "but you _don't_, so you better get to the real purpose you have."

Din callously gazed at him, not making a sound until his breath broke into gasps. She breathed in, ignoring his comment, and continued. "This will have a little bit of creative touch, and you may at first see it as foolishness, but there will be no way out of it. You will, ultimately, have your own free will, but will protect Link from harm." Din smiled icily, leaving Ganondorf to his own reaction.

Ganondorf, at first, really had none. He pondered on this idea a while, staring out into space, silence droning in his ear, until he finally let out a weak chuckle. Din kept silent, so the quiet laugh carried across the darkness easily. His laughing became less and less confident, slowly beginning to think of the logic necessary, and scoffing at it. "And how is that to be accomplished?"

To his surprise, he received no response. Din stared back at him only for a moment and then vanished into the abyss. Ganondorf became puzzled, and tentatively tried speaking her name, but no voice came from his throat. He reached out for his own throat, trying to see what was wrong. He felt an icy stump of flesh instead, and alarmingly tried to warm it with his hands. This was to no avail, and he felt a dull panic growing in his heart. The darkness suddenly became much more threatening, and he could feel a crushing pressure against his body. A face began to evolve of the darkness, and the darkness only grew darker while his mind began to tear.

_Am I dying?_ It was all he could think of at first, as the darkness began to dizzily roll around his darting eyes. His mind continued to slip out of grasp, a soft light erupting beneath him before fading again. His lungs were no longer able to take the pressure, and he let in a sharp breath, but was unable to let the breath out again. His chest began to burn with an incredible pain, and slowly he managed to let out a gasp, but as the air left his lungs, the darkness grew deeper, and it the darkness struck him bluntly.

Through bleary eyes, he watched as Din walked into an open gap of white, and at last he felt his mind carry away into nothing.

He awoke. Or at least, he thought he did. In fact, he really wasn't sure what had happened. He never felt as though he was asleep... He saw only darkness, but felt light fall over him. The warmth was at first unwelcome, and he struggled through the blind existence to escape from it, but it proved useless.

The light was there, but he couldn't see it. His eyes were blinded and hurt from the sharp brightness of the sun. He could hear birds calling in the distance. Ganondorf kept low... Wherever he was. He couldn't tell where he stood, but he felt gravity pulling at him heavily. Gravity was extremely strong to him, as he had not felt the force for ten years. The sunlight burnt him at first, and he continually struggled to avoid it, but after a few minutes, the pain eased. Ganondorf began to sweat heavily under the sunlight, gasping and becoming thirsty very quickly. He also felt a heavy, hollow hunger that gnawed at his stomach.

The pains gathered themselves, and a flaming headache started up, but he had to face them. The sunlight was so drastically different from the dark and cold that he had lived in, that he was not mentally prepared to face it. The heat was excruciating, and his pale skin couldn't stay in direct contact with it very long. The gravity confused him, because he had forgotten what it felt like, and couldn't tell if he was lying on the ground or was upside-down. After a moment of extreme dizziness, he finally figured out that his body was on the ground, and that his face was in the dirt.

His eyes opened cautiously, and he barely had the strength to wedge his arms underneath his chest in order to lift his face from the ground. Dirt covered his face, but the light blurred into his vision. He blinked several times, the dizzy images clearing, and feeling very scattered. His lungs steadily began to breathe, and he could see something in front of him. He saw the ground... Littered with leaves. There were trees surrounding him, but he could only see the trunks and roots from where he looked.

Din sharply and clearly spoke. "Well? Are you going to take all day?"

Ganondorf only grunted and collapsed again, impatiently mumbling. "It's not as easy as it looks." Ganondorf momentarily wheezed, and Din grew impatient with him.

"You're a powerful wizard, aren't you?"

Well... He was, admittedly. Ganondorf suddenly felt a little foolish at not realizing this before, and began to try to strengthen himself. The Triforce began to wash over him, his heart pulsing hard from his chest, and his muscles gained the strength in order to push himself from the ground. Slowly but surely, he lifted himself in order to see the lush woods that surrounded him. He wasn't particularly romantic about nature, but he had to admit that the feeling of seeing trees again was strangely relieving.

Din was standing grimly in front of him, and he was surprised by her appearance. She was rather short, and barely reached his waist even as she stood tall. This caused him to step back in order to see her better. She was slim and darkly tanned with a red tint to her skin, probably reflecting from her light red garb, lined with purple and pink cloth. She wore golden sandals with leather leggings going up to her knees. The garment was circus-like and almost looked comical, but was strangely fitting with her springy, bright red hair.

Din didn't appear joyful at the moment, but Ganondorf doubted that any such sentiments would occur with him nearby. Her face was grave and silent, and she crossed her arms stiffly. "Well, that took long enough. Should I give you the grand tour?"

Ganondorf chose to disregard the sarcasm. "I suppose this is as good a time as any."

Din grunted and turned to face the endless mess of trees. They stood in a area that must've been cleared of trees a long time ago, because the trees were only sprouts, and most of the ground was covered with moss-covered logs. Ganondorf could hear water running in the distance and concluded that there must be a creek nearby as well. "I am not stupid enough, Ganondorf," Din began, awakening him from a daze, "to let you free with all of your powers to simply roam and kill."

Humored, Ganondorf mumbled in response. "Now, let's be fair, who said I would do that?"

There was no response, and Din only offered a cold glance before she continued. "I will let you have all of your powers. However, your powers will probably not matter much after you learn of the other strings that are attached. You see, if you hurt another, you will feel the pain they receive from that infliction. If you kill someone, you will die with them. Whatever pain or death you inflict you will receive. I think you get the picture."

"I thought this had to do with Link," Ganondorf cut in.

"That's the important part," Din smugly answered. "You will have a similar connection with Link. Except... It won't just be the pain you inflict upon him."

"...What?" Ganondorf stared at her dizzily, unable to understand.

"...If Link feels pain--and I mean from _anything--_you will feel it."

Dumbfounded, Ganondorf could only repeat himself. "...What?"

Din cracked a smile, entertained by Ganondorf's baffled response. "If someone stabs his arm, you'll feel that pain. If a rock hits his head, you'll feel that pain. And if his neck snaps and he dies, so do you."

Ganondorf slowly began to take in these words, and felt color draining from his face. He suddenly appeared very vulnerable and defeated. Din couldn't help but continue smiling as she watched him deteriorate. For a moment, he appeared to only be able to stutter incomprehensively. "That's... Th-that's..."

"'That's' what?" Din demanded, leaving him silent. He stared blankly at her, and finally realized he had nothing to say.

Din grimly turned around, staring out into the woods, momentarily ignoring him. Ganondorf was still letting this idea sink in, but suddenly asked, "Where am I?"

"You're standing in the territory where Link is at this moment," Din answered indifferently. "He's been wandering and looking for fights with the creatures of these woods."

Ganondorf knew this was not beneficial on his part--it was risk, and Ganondorf hadn't felt pain in years, so he feared it. He had been free of it long enough to gain a severe paranoia, and would seek to save himself from this reality of life. He looked to the woods, heart pounding. "Do I get a bigger hint than that?"

There was no reply. Ganondorf turned around, and found only empty forest.

Ganondorf was not hurt by the goddesses' ill manners. Din had vanished but he dismissed this abrupt act with a snort. "I guess I'll have to find him _myself_."

This was no problem.

The summer air was heavy on his shoulders, and in a vexed attempt to cool his profusely sweating body, he tossed his body into a spiraling dance, and with a burst of energy he flew into the air. The wind toyed with him but he soon grabbed command of it, freely soaring above the shimmering green of the trees.

As he met the cooler air above the dense forest, he entertained a sigh of relief. Though his body still trembled in weakness from years of neglect, every passing minute allowed his strength to steadily return. No longer tormented by humidity, he took in the clearer air and glanced about the horizon. He studied the distant outlines of mountains, calculating where he must be. Ganondorf could tell he was deep in the forest, for there was nothing but miles of trees in every direction.

Soon it did not matter to him that Link was nearly impossible to find. Nothing worried him in the following minutes. He could feel the breeze and the wisps of cloud flow through the ebony and leather that decorated his frame. Grinning and relieved of the oppressive air of the world beneath him, he flew above the smoke of green.

Everything seemed askew, crooked in his sight. Ganondorf's pondered why the world seemed so gnarled as he gazed down upon it, but did not blame his own view. His dizziness and wobbly flight was the fault of the blistering wind, and the obscured images of trees were the fault of the trees' obscurity. Ganondorf continued to barrel ahead, ignoring a distinct sinking feeling and weakness chilling his muscles. Nothing could convince him that he was falling until his path was grazing the tops of the trees. As his limbs unearthed branches and leaves, tearing them into the fresh sky, he wondered how the trees had so suddenly met him. Had they grown taller?

The minutes waned, and to his surprise, his body crashed through the branches like a boulder, and through his confusion he tore around a few impending trunk of trees. He was toppling downwards, spiraling without control, and in the last few moments he fought to slow down. Every grope for a branch led to a sharp slash, a burn of friction, and a grunt of frustration. His failing flight baffled him, but he had to gain control before he met the rocky earth.

The trees roared, snapped, beat him while he ripped through their limbs, and all the while he frantically tried to think of what to do. He struggled to keep his energy up, but exhaustion had licked him.

All he could consider was,_ this is anti-climatic_.

Before he at last collided into the crust, there was a spray of rock flowering into his face. Ganondorf plowed through the soil, but before the earth could succumb him and crush him, a dormant spurt of energy survived. With no hope of living without its use, Ganondorf poured all of his concentration into this one pulse. The energy roared, erupted, and before he hit the ground, the magic led to a bounce. Like a pebble across water, he slammed into a burst of energy and skipped weakly into the air.

Skid. Crack. The impact was not as hard as it could have been, but it sent him into an undignified stumble, ripping across the rough terrain until gravity finally slowed him to a stop.

Confounded and dizzy, Ganondorf could not bring himself to move. _That_ had never happened before. His magic had drained almost immediately after careening into the air. All he could speculate was he was out of practice. He uneasily stood up, groaning at his battered frame, but decided nothing was broken after examining himself. Lucky break. If the bounce hadn't absorbed most of the impact, he would likely have not survived.

_It's been 15 minutes and I've already had my near-death experience_, he thought grimly. Vocally, he sputtered, "What _was_ that?"

To his surprise, he received an answer in the dead of the woods.

Though some would argue a stunted growl is not a true reply.

Ganondorf stared dumbly into the Wolfos' face, feeling a curious burning ripple up his side.

Ganon hadn't seen a Wolfos for quite some time, but despite his absence he could recognize a wild one when he saw it. This beast was much smaller in stature than the beasts he was familiar with. The animal bristled when it saw him, but though its movements betrayed its dumbness, the eyes gave away another surprising trait. Though this Wolfos was not as aware and intelligent as the ones Ganondorf had once commanded, this beast looked somehow far more soulful in its stupidity. The eyes glimmered with a sharp resonation, the sleek-boned body quivering from the eruption of snarls coming from its furry breast.

Although Ganondorf knew it couldn't understand him, he couldn't escape the habit of speaking to it. "Hello, there."

The silvery head made a tremor, the sound of his voice exciting its anger more. The wild Wolfos tried in vain to threaten him, but the creature was too small and weak to make any impressive poses. Ganondorf ignored its growling and stared at it, beginning a one-sided conversation.

"And who might you be?" Ganondorf inquired sorely, turning his attention to the growing pain in his side. He clawed at the burning flesh but could find nothing wrong with it.

The Wolfos fell quiet, baring its teeth and its ears falling flat against its head. The bronze eyes grew in size, the light falling through the trees giving them a distinct glisten.

Thinking aloud, Ganondorf suddenly wondered, "Is your pack nearby or are you a loner?"

As he spoke, a revelation struck him. As the pain racked him, he began to understand that the pain was not coming from his body. The Wolfos sniffed and spun on its paws, and with a winded grin of fangs, it dashed back into the woods. Shadows chased it and brush broke beneath its shattering pace. Almost immediately, the beast vanished in the green haze of forest.

"--Hey!"

Ganondorf couldn't let this feeling go--a collected noise was humming about the trees, a significant motion in the isolated wilderness awakening his curiosity. Something was not right, and as Ganondorf dwelled on Din's words, he began to understand the ghastly pain and fleeing Wolfos.

"Link, you idiot," he swore beneath his breath. If his intuition proved correct, the Hylian was stupider than initially thought.

Ganondorf took pursuit, albeit uneasily; he had lost the Wolfos' track in his brief pause of thought and the pain yet inhibited his ability to chase after it. Still cursing and stumbling around the roots of trees, Ganondorf found himself maneuvering towering rocks and crevices, a scattered attempt to guess the Wolfos' path, but upon standing atop a teetering rock formation, he found what he needed. A thick molt of moss blanketed the world below, and as he peered down into the pit of earth and grass, he saw the pack stranded in the midst of a sparkling creek. Water stirred, grunts were exchanged, and the beasts all shuffled through the watery path, crossing it for another location.

There was a pounding noise off in the distance, and the untrained ear would have reported war drums. But this was no such thing: it was too guttural, too natural for the intense beat of palm against thin hide.

Ganondorf precariously watched his step, identifying the only possible way down. It didn't appear comfortable, but he had crossed rigid terrain before. He would just have to remember.

One step. Turf: this was easy. The grass melted under his feet, padding his pace.

The next step, this time at an angle downwards. He aimed for a slab of slate interrupted with a gnarled tree root, hoping it would support his weight if he were to lean into its cradle. He didn't trust it completely, and so as his foot slipped down the slick slate, his arm grabbed for another branch nearby. This step ended up becoming a clumsy, awkward swoop down the side of the rock, but as he had planned, his foot was snagged by the tree root and held still. His arm was yanked uncomfortably and dust spat into his face from the tree branch's bow. Both vines ached with his heftiness. Ganondorf, fortunately, was used to this and pondered his next move.

Now, the trouble was trying to free his foot from the vine and transfer his weight onto another safe spot. This was easier said than done. Not only was there no apparent safe place to go, but the moment he tried to step away from the root, his foot deepened into the root's tangle and snagged even harder. Without any other option, Ganondorf sputtered swear words and grabbed more fiercely for the branch above him. One foot flailing and scraping the slate wall, and the other twisting into a tree root without hope of freedom, Ganondorf tried to lift himself with both of his arms pulling on the branch overhead.

This was not dignified business. And just when he thought he had no audience, a familiar snout and pair of yellow eyes greeted him from above. More profanities were made, mostly directed in the Wolfos' direction. But the Wolfos wistfully shrugged these hateful words off and effortlessly leapt down the cliff with a bounce and glide of dust.

The few of the wild dogs turned their eyes in the direction of the bizarre disturbance, but they were uninterested in a uselessly wriggling man tangled in roots. They stared momentarily and moved on, and the only audience he gained was quickly lost.

All the better for him, he supposed, feeling the roots at his foot at last give way and snap.

_Oh, goddesses_. He made another futile grab for the thin wisp of branch, but the sticks and leaves slipped through his grip and he slid sharply down the hill of stone. The crash was immediate and obscured by the turrent of dust clouding his fall, but fortunately for his sake, his slip-up cost him little. The fall was abrupt and relatively painless, except for a the continuing tear threading up his side, and in the sudden flare of pain, he emitted a dry gasp.

His side--his ribs cried out in the shock of being torn open, though they stood unharmed and in peace. He made his way back onto his feet, brushing the dust and rubble from his clothing, cursing the chunkiness of his mode of dress. Though the pain enraged him, he set his eyes upon the emerging pack, now certain of the source of his agony.

Ganondorf walked carefully, somehow disquieted by the migration of these animals. He knew he had to be careful not to offend them--they were easily offended and punished transgressions fiercely. It was as he followed the creatures' paths, however, that he identified what he was searching for.

The circle.

Someone was fighting a Wolfos.

All he could see at first was a surrounding fog and haze of silver fur, all standing stalkish and still, attentive yellow eyes distracted into the sacred ground where blood was being shed. This circle of Wolfos was utterly quiet, nothing but a few unsettled notes coming from excited youths, and all held their snouts closed. The Wolfos made no breaths or coughs in the face of their ancient lore--they watched, and nothing more, while this tradition held on. Ganondorf made steps among the Wolfos, expecting to be greeted by the animals with snarls and warnings, but none moved as he approached. He moved onward, at first believing they did not notice him, for they were so immersed in the battle he was straining to see. But soon his feet met the same ground as their gnarled paws, his legs and arms brushing against their tattered manes, and he could feel the breaths of enormous, deadly animals pressing against every side of him. A few looked at him emptily, their marble eyes examining him and questioning him with no more than a faint curiosity. They were confused but not threatened by the new observer who had come to join them in watching the slaughter. Ganondof read their expressions as almost being flattered that an outsider had taken interest. It was, after all, the only relic of their ancestors they had to observe. This tradition, this circle they created to surround a duel between man and beast, was a part of their very being. Humans had history and stories to pass down their humanity, but the Wolfos kept this practice close to heart. They could not write or speak, and so they passed down their nature through bloodlines and instinct.

This dueling was not exclusive to their kind--it surpassed their kind, for it was a hunger that lay dormant in life for many millennia, a tradition shared by man and beast's common ancestors, and even before them.

This desperate and celebrated fight was going on just beyond their grizzly shoulders, but Ganondorf decided to be patient. If he hoped to interrupt this situation without being killed he would have to try and follow the rules.

Ganondorf could see it from where he stood, being of a tall stature, and in his impatience watched and considered what was before him. The center ground was alit with life, a stark contrast with the stony stillness of the surrounding Wolfos. Two warriors, a young man and an impenetrable animal, were furiously tearing at each other. The Wolfos was massive and glorious, a clear leader of the pack, its body covered in a mossy coat of gray fur, its eyes burning a christened gold, and its teeth glistening with splashes of man-blood. It hulked over the man who battled it, roaring in the sport of destroying its prey, its lunges becoming a furious ritual and dance.

Link was in retreat, to Ganondorf's disappointment, suffering from an open wound at his side. But despite his pain and continuing slide into loss, Link gripped an unfamiliar broadsword and was swinging it madly--without reason at all. He didn't even seem to be aiming. Ganondorf could only make a brief observation before deciding something was definitely wrong, and that it was beyond the blood that was being spilled. Link's movements under the flow of a dark cloak were awkward, imprecise, and desperately wild. Despite the intent eyes around the two, neither appeared aware of the audience they had produced. They were immersed in their battle--to them, no one existed but this one enemy who they fought to kill. The other Wolfos did not exist; Ganondorf did not exist.

Ganondorf was not perturbed, but knew he had to stop this before his life-host was killed. He stood among these innocent yet bloodthirsty beasts, breathing with them, and calculated his options.

The Wolfos in the circle remained calm and at ease, their horrific folklore revealing the paradoxical spiritual inheritance in their blood. Even as the Wolfos moved in for its kill--even as it remained a dumb animal and ignorant of heaven--it was, yet, full of heaven. Just as a newborn babe, they were innocent of understanding of God, but still were filled with God in every bone of their body. Their beauty, their grace, their every step was brim with the holiness and sanctity of a temple. But their teeth rendered them as far more potent than a holy object--these relics filled with heaven in their design also had the power to devour and kill.

Ganondorf fell ill suddenly as the Wolfos leader delivered another blow to Link's failing body. He swallowed, hesitated, and made a sharp move inward. But before his venture could succeed, the Wolfos felt his intentions.

A distant stir evolved around a female Wolfos. Why she became nervous and violent over Ganondorf's presence was unclear. He didn't know whether it was that she was threatened by his alien presence, was afraid of their ritual being interrupted, or was merely in an irritable mood. But his welcome had worn and the Wolfos who has previously eyed him calmly now became afraid. They panicked at the sudden change in atmosphere, sensing their leader's discontent and glared into the man who was daring to stop this sacred battle. Teeth bared and glittered under the summer sunlight. Manes bristled and ears perked upwards in attention. No Wolfos was ignorant of this emerged threat, and soon the entire crowd's attention had averted.

A goddess of fury and wind marched boldly, swiftly taking up her duty, determined to remove this interrupter and foreign body as though drawing poison from a wound. Growls and irregular singing echoed among the beasts, inquiring and challenging snarls rising from the pack. The mentality was clear: _you do not belong here._

These forest gods circled him, the music of their yelps filling his ears, but he did not move or tremble. Ganondorf could still see the traces of terror in their eyes, for they recognized his scent and knew better than to believe they could easily intimidate him. Ganondorf frowned at the crowd of teeth swaying in front of him, watching in disapproval as the entire pack abandoned their ritual to scuffle over to his side and threaten him with their thick scowls.

They raged, but were frozen still. The she-wolf went still, a look of uncertainty wrinkling the curl of lips at her face. She looked to Ganon, snorted, and looked back to the duel the circle had abandoned. The she-wolf cautiously shot out her tongue and recoiled it again, lapping against her canines and considering her options. The other Wolfos grew discouraged with her immobility. Silent words and stunted growls were exchanged, but none were willing to challenge Ganondorf.

All blinked and recoiled, and Link made an agonized noise in the distance.

Ganondorf emitted a frenzied roar of pain as he felt the ghoulish nails open Link's side, and the Wolfos resounded in alarm at the noise, throwing their heads back in a chorus of synchronized howling. The cacophony of yelping and excited cries tossed the situation into a flurry of confusion. The Wolfos were baffled by their visitors' seemingly erratic scream, and none were able to decide if it was a threat to their business. They eyed the convulsing Gerudo man as though he had lost his mind, nervously lifting their heads and baring their teeth.

Ganondorf forced himself to ignore the fiery wound, and before the Wolfos could assault him, a violet fume splashed into their faces.

There was thunder, crash, a whip of energy birthing in his hand. The Wolfos were knocked back, their mouths closed, their vision obscured by this pulsing rush, and all at once the world went quiet.

The Wolfos could only stare in horror, ears and hair standing on end, and Ganondorf calmly took in his free breath. The growing, purple flame engulfing his hand mesmerized them, and none dared to move. Ganondorf turned his eyes, hearing the clatter of metal continue regardless of his capture. He held these beasts hostage and peered over his shoulder, only to find that Link had dealt the last blow. The leader of the pack moaned, but the sharp blade punished its jaw with a precise thrust and it collapsed on the forest floor. Once the beast's moaning ceased and Link wearily withdrew, Ganondorf watched the rest of the pack grow concerned.

Their leader had just been killed and they were thirsty for vengeance, yet this strange man was threatening them and keeping them still. No Wolfos opened its mouth, none closed their eyes--they saw his power and obeyed like whipped pups, all exchanging glances, wondering nervously what their fate was to be.

"He's mine," Ganondorf conversationally informed the she-wolf, gazing into her magnificent eyes as though looking upon royalty.

The she-wolf only grinned. She gave only one last glance back at the mangled corpse of its mate, as well as its killer, and grunted whimsically. The creature lowered her head and trotted away simply, her steps undaunted and freshly optimistic in the face of her new rule. One by one, her bewildered pack followed, and in a fog of fur and rustling, the Wolfos disappeared into the vast forests as silently as they had come.

Ganondorf's energy faded without incident and died with a sputter of electricity. Relieved that he didn't have to spend any of his waning power, the Gerudo sighed and twisted his head around.

And there Link was. The boy--or was it a man?--was panting in exhaustion from the fight, twirling his bloodied blade and wiping it against the shrouding cloak. His eyes, sharp and brilliantly blue from even a distance, seemed distant and distracted. Ganondorf frowned, looking over the Hylian critically and trying to make up his mind.

From the messy threads of hair on the boy's head to his worn and muddy boots, Link emanated a ghastly power and strength. This was no longer the innocent and befuddled hero who so _happened_ to defeat Ganon--no, he was a warrior, the chill in his gaze and confidence in his stance giving away his spurt in maturity. This Link no longer wore the childish and nostalgic garment of green, but instead wore a more comfortable suit of loose brown cloth, swallowed in a black cloak.

So strong, so powerful...

Ganondorf's adoration was quickly overcome by his hatred.

Ganondorf swallowed hard, forcing the bitter bile in his throat down, and aversely approached. In his mind, he tried to consider how to start the conversation. Thinking of how to reintroduce oneself to one's enemy was hard enough, but Link would surely be flustered with his inexplicable reappearance. Ganondorf was not looking forward to this clash, but mulled happily over the possible facial expressions he would see.

Link was unmoved; Ganondorf walked closer.

Smirk. "Hello, Link."

Link leapt in the air, heart and nerves pulsing like a jackrabbit. Before Ganondorf could blink, Link wielded his silvery blade, weighing its arch in his hand. There was something not right about his expression, something queer and unexpected... "How do you know my name? Who are you?" the boy demanded, eyes narrowing, face becoming wild and terrible. His voice had changed immensely, no longer giving away his dormant fears or uncertainties. His voice had grown hard, stern, and without that expansive sense of mercy Ganon had heard before.

"Don't you recognize me?" Ganondorf balked, at first wondering if this were a joke.

There was a moment's hesitation. Link's eyes were not right--no, they whirled without pattern, not concentrated and meaningless. His confusion added up to his equally puzzled tone. "I... I'm not defenseless, I will protect myself--"

"What is wrong with you?" Ganon suddenly blurted in frustration, nearly breaking into a rage, just before he realized it.

Of course; it made _sense_.

Link's eyes.

Ganondorf couldn't restrain himself from mumbling the obvious.

"You're... Blind?"


	2. red dawn

**chapter 2: red dawn**

I've miraculously finished another chapter already! This is unusual, so try not to get used to it. It's a short chapter anyway.

Thank you to all of those who've reviewed so far. Cookies for all!

Answers to some questions/comments:

**Jiro **– I'm not a writer yet, though I'm interested in the field. I'm only 16 so I have a ways to go in developing my writing style.

**Dannondorf **– Trust me, I will make Ganondorf miserable. It just wouldn't be any fun to write this if I didn't!

**Dream wick** – Sorry, can't tell you why Link's blind… You'll have to figure that out on your own as the story continues.

**Ddtrunks77** – Simple answer to a simple question: read the notes at the beginning. This story will NOT be a yaoi.

To those others who were kind enough to give me such gracious reviews, thank you again!

* * *

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." **William Blake**

It didn't seem right at all to Ganondorf, staring at his enemy, observing the splotches of blood staining the boy's clothes. It was unfathomable--yet eerily, it made perfect sense. Of all the people he knew, this was the boy to do it. This boy would get himself lost in the woods and fight Wolfos, all the while without any eyesight. That, Ganondorf had no doubts over.

Ganondorf was, however, a tad irked that Link didn't recognize his voice. It was a silly detail, Ganondorf knew, but there was something particularly insulting about Link's easy forgetfulness. Ganondorf thought of himself rather highly, considering himself the one and only enemy of the boy, and yet Link had forgotten his voice. Ganondorf tried not to sound flustered as he protested, "You're kidding me!"

Ganondorf's tantrum was leading to even greater confusion on Link's part--the blind man was bewildered by this stranger who was so suddenly growing angry with him, and held his blade with an air of panic. "Do I _know_ you?"

"I should _think_ so," Ganon offered.

Link was beginning to share Ganondorf's frustrated sentiments. Link huffed and lowered his sword. "If you're not going to answer me, you're not worth my time!"

Ganondorf laughed as Link's intimidation faded and approached him without hesitation. As he moved in, he spat, "A little _full_ of yourself, aren't you?"

The blade twitched murderously, but Ganondorf didn't pay it any attention. Indeed, when Link felt him coming closer and attempted a blow, Ganondorf effortlessly smacked it from his grip. The sword whirled in the air and hit the ground with a dull thud. Link froze and glared daggers into his pursuer. "Don't come any closer," the Hylian hissed, crouching like an animal, as if preparing for an attack with teeth and nails.

Ganondorf berated him. "And what exactly are you going to do to me if I don't, _Link_? Scratch me like a cat?"

Link emptily stared into space, concentrating on every noise surrounding him, eyes shifting perhaps unconsciously. The sword was gone, and Link couldn't grab for it from where he stood. Link's breaths jumped, the sense of being cornered closing in on him. Link ignored the stranger who was mocking him and instead focused on every possible escape.

Ganondorf quickly lost patience with this and, without thinking it over properly, grabbed Link roughly by the arm. "C'mon, boy," he growled, "you're injured."

A look of obstinate horror crosses Link's face only a moment for Ganondorf paid the consequence for such an unwelcome move.

"_I said, **stay back**!_"

Ganondorf, in his lack of forethought, seemed to have forgotten that Link was by far a potent fighter. Before Ganondorf could bat an eyelid, he was battered and gasping in pain at the sudden and crisp crunch of his arm. Flustered and in shock, Ganondorf recoiled and swallowed a scream of pain. He gagged, desperately tending his abused limb, and after confirming with relief that Link had been generous enough not to break anything, he realized Link had run. Ganon looked about in irritation, growing weary of chasing after frightened animals. He finally took in a breath, leaning down and taking up the dropped sword, and set off after the trail of blood.

The forest emitted a jaded sigh as well, bowing to the brisk flight of the young warrior. As Ganondorf worked quickly to go after the escapee, he paid close attention to the gasping woods around him, the breathing green of the trees that seemed to wax and wane in his sight. Though his feet trampled dead leaves and pursued a faint trickle of blood on its floor, he had no intentions of concentrating on this world. His mind had been trained from the very beginning of his life to wander needlessly, to only shallowly interact with the ordeals in which he was involved while his detached mind moved the fuller world around him. He was not chasing Link, or so he thought--he was barely aware of this menial task, for it required little thought.

He watched curiously, the trees growing and breathing and multiplying in front of him, all in a deep trance of contemplation. Everything was asleep, dormant, but very much alive. The sunlight beat down, glittering in bright golds and silvers, thumbprints of color scattered in the undergrowth. All else was black and a musty, hidden green. Ganondorf would have smiled at such sights, had he anything other than a simple fascination with the splashes and gaudy patterns. He read the forest like it was a book, and likewise picked it apart with his romantic critique.

Moss and vines awakened his poor eyesight, and suddenly as he found himself in the depths of the woods, the light had vanished completely. The air was moist, the stench overwhelmingly grassy, a deep and healthy soil's scent clouding his senses. The sunlight couldn't touch him, nor could the heightened singing of birds. Only the insects and rodents could keep him any company. He was dazzled by the dark and the chilliness of the forest's underworld, trekking over moss and mushrooms, upturning the black dirt as he walked.

Ganondorf had to shake his exhaustion. He was feeling dozy, the rocky earth cradling him and tempting him to sleep. He was ready to succumb to the world's call to rest. Ganondorf realized he hadn't slept in years. The dimension he had been released from didn't require sleep, nor did it allow for a very comfortable means for it. Ganondorf stopped in his tracks a moment, the pain in his side growing to unimaginable intensity, and the cold comfort of the earth lulling him. Birds sang faint and deft lullabies, the depths dripped of dew, and spiders drew out their webs, all in some maddening, synchronized spiral that could only pull Ganondorf into a comatose of fatigue.

He trembled, eyes trailing off back into the string of crimson.

He lost his train of thought. What was this thread? He knew it meant something, but suddenly, he couldn't place its significance. What did it lead to?

Ganondorf's eyes followed it and found his answer.

There was a flutter of pale skin, bleeding breath, a strand or two of golden hair, all in a single beast. The thing leaned against a tree of insurmountable age, the crust of its bark prickling the tender skin and cloth. It gasped, immobile, blood dripping down its side as it moaned aloud, and with a final groan of pain, the bark snapped as it fell.

The bleeding boy collapsed into the dead earth, and made no more noise or movement.

Ganondorf watched this spectacle for several minutes, slowly comprehending what this meant for him, and debating what to do next. As his mind reawakened to the thing's identity, he felt hate. But in the same way, his mind reminded him of his connection. The burn at his side would not go away unless he tended to this thing that he hated, and for this reason he at last consented.

The sword in his hand flashed distinctly silver and he soon lost his thoughts. Everything seemed drunk, murky like a dream, and he couldn't recall a thing. What had he done? What was he doing? The lack of sleep pounded on his mentality, every move he made becoming a caricature of a possible dream. He couldn't separate the illusions from his true actions, and soon everything melded into a single sequence of sensations, a distanced commencement. Like a dream, he couldn't remember what he had done, or what he hadn't done. It was only when he awoke that anything seemed real anymore, and that he could confirm what had happened.

Ganondorf woke up, head spinning. The colors of the world around him clashed, stabbing his eyesight, leading to despaired curses. A flame raged in his head but the pain in his side dwindled. Ganondorf glanced around, everything still surreal, but took a breath of relief. He found himself laying on a stretch of soft soil and moss, comfortable and feeling rested. Everything was relieved, his body only throbbing from a dull ache by then. He stretched, feeling his muscles complain at being neglected so long. He snapped a few joints and tried to gather himself.

He was struck with a short period of amnesia. Where was he? He knew he was in the woods and had to slowly remember why. He looked to his right, down into a small pocket of vines, and saw Link. Ganondorf's mind almost impulsively drummed up his ancient feelings of hate, but after a minute he came back to his senses. The boy was unconscious from bleeding, and now he was lying silently in a carefully crafted bundle. Ganondorf looked closer. Not only was Link wrapped in_ his_ cape, but the color was also returning to the Hylian's face and the bleeding seemed to have receded. Ganondorf crawled soundlessly to the boy's side and looked over him.

The boy's wounds were tightly bound. Ganondorf looked at his hands and found they were smothered in blood. He didn't remember anything, and so he came to the conclusion that he had tended Link's wounds. He fought to think back but could not. The only images he could summon were of red and white, a swirl of Link's pale flesh, and the shedding of cloth.

It appeared as though Link had been undressed and redressed at least partially for the wounds to be fixed, but Ganondorf found this odd. He would think that he would remember something like that, yet he could recall nothing. Chilled by the absent memories, Ganondorf sat back.

He looked to the sky, wondering how long he had slept. It was closing in on evening, and stars were beginning to flicker in the blue sky. The sky seemed so much bigger from deep down in the earth, while he lay on his back and stared up into it. He no longer troubled himself with the things he couldn't remember and watched the day turn to dusk, and the last of the scorched sky darkening into night. Crickets started to sing in place of the birds, but these songs were more intimate and loud, for the crickets were much closer neighbors. Ganondorf almost nodded off again to his new chorus, but Link stirred and he shifted his attention.

This time, Link did not carry a panicked expression, although he was aware of the heightened danger. The Hylian appeared solemn and determined, sitting up silently.

Ganondorf smirked and turned his head.

Link felt his bandaged chest. "...Is someone there?"

Ganondorf considered remaining silent, but he decided to not torture the boy any further. "Yes."

There was a twitch and a scowl. Link betrayed none of the anxiety he clearly felt--even from the position he was in, injured and vulnerable, he seemed quite at ease. "I know who you are now," Link informed him flippantly.

"I suppose that's good," Ganondorf replied. In truth, he was barely listening. The moonlight was too silver and he was drowning in its intensity, the milky brightness twisting the shadows, turning everything a sharp black and white. A frog sprawled from a patch of shimmering water, croaking and trying to nestle in the shallow puddle of fungi and dew. Ganondorf's head ached, the color becoming so stark in contrast that he nearly fainted, and he didn't notice Link's agitation.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you rotting away where you're _supposed_ to be?"

The questions were benign. Ganondorf winced as his eyes tweaked and jarred, the images before him blurring. The earth only sang more harshly, and the snowy frog again croaked. Ganondorf felt scattered, uneven, his head floating away before he could grab for it and keep it in place. He knew the boy was saying something, but it was lost in the fogginess of his consciousness.

The voice grew more profound and angry at his silence. "You villain, what are you planning?"

The boy sounded furious, offended by Ganon's presence, the tenor of his voice strained. Ganondorf absently wondered what could be causing such violent feelings, but even this he could not focus on. Ganondorf was absorbed by the lifeless rock and leaf that stood underneath the depth of the sky, blanketed by a dark field of glittering jewels, and watched as they curiously seemed to come alive.

The boy's voice nearly interrupted his connection, and soon Ganondorf grew restless with the intruding sound. He grew irritable and vengeful, unable to comprehend why some gnat wished to break him away from his fantasies. Hyrule had grown angry with him before for being too boastful and oppressive, and now that he was completely silent and calm, there was _still _someone to complain about his actions. He groaned, unable to escape the others' whimpers, and concluded he could please no one.

A glitter caught Ganon's eye. He realized Link's sword was still divorced from its owner. Ganon lazily stepped down from the ridge of moss and carefully picked up the blade. "You dropped your sword back there," he said conversationally, setting it to Link's side. Link emptily glared at him.

"I will repeat my questions and you will answer me," Link growled.

Such a stony comment caused Ganondorf to emit a weary chuckle and he traipsed back to his spot. "So be it, Link. Try one at a time, though. I happen to only have one mouth."

"_What are you doing free_?"

"That would be Din's doing," Ganondorf answered crossly. "Apparently She believes you need some assistance. I didn't understand why at first, but..." Ganondorf examined Link and nodded affirmatively. "I understand now."

Link became defensive. "I don't need your help."

Ganondorf wasn't surprised, but reminded him, "You don't have sight. That's a bit of a disability."

"And I've done just _fine_ without a guide."

Ganondorf didn't wish to waste his energy on useless bickering and resigned to Link's objections.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" Link challenged vehemently, not about to surrender to this outrage. "Where's Din? If what you're saying is true--"

"I'm not going to hurt you--I can assure you that," Ganon spoke curtly. "But unless Din decides to show up on Her own, I can't help you there."

Ganondorf smiled unwittingly in response to Link's increasingly flustered expression. It made no sense to either of them, really, but Link was in the disadvantage. He had no sight, no way to even begin trusting Ganon's words. "What do you want?" Link at last managed, fingers sliding through his blonde, tangled head of hair.

"What do I _want_?" Ganondorf snorted. "I _want _to kill you, just as I always have--but I can't."

Link cautiously tested this concept. "What's binding you to your word?"

"It's not my word... But I can't hurt you all the same. Din has found satisfaction in toying with my fate as She sees fit." Ganondorf folded his arms, sitting back now with a new, frustrated look. "Your pain is my pain; your death is my death. The only hope I have of escaping an existence of torture is to keep you from screwing yourself up as you did so **terrifically** today."

"I _won_," Link pointed out, juggling between the two ideas. "And what do you mean? You feel what I feel?"

Ganondorf disregarded the question and began to fume. "'Winning'? Are you mad? There were at least twenty more of those beasts surrounding you!"

"I would have beaten them."

Ganondorf snorted, throwing up his arms. "Gods, _that _would have been a spectacle! You, blind and already passing out from bleeding, take on and defeat twenty hungry animals trying to maul you! Yes--a spectacle indeed!"

Link went bitterly silent.

"What's your story, anyway?" Ganondorf bantered. "What exactly went on so that you lost your sight?"

There was no response.

Ganondorf sighed, knowing he had lost the conversation to Link's stubbornness.

* * *

The night was almost perfectly dead, save for the hovering shadows over Ganondorf's body as he slept. These murderous, elongated flickers swarmed about, waiting patiently like vultures, baring their silvery teeth and crimson eyes. His imagination twisted every curve, exaggerated every spot of color, and enhanced the sharpness of every corner. The earth devolved into a twisted, gnarled surface filled with eyes and faces, all leering, all looming over their prey, all flaming with vibrant colors. Every rustle of a dry leaf in the breeze became a footstep, every shiver of the trees became an eager hand groping for its victim, and every sparkle of moonlight became a brimming, threatening blade. It caused Ganondorf no end of anxiety, turning at every twitch of nature, panicking at the sight of every wary eye.

Perhaps it was because of this that he didn't believe himself the first time he thought he saw Link.

He thought he saw the Hylian standing over him, emptily gazing into his resting body, somehow emanating threat...

Ganondorf thought he was dreaming at first. He blinked, frozen still, hoping the shadowy figure would disappear from his vision. However, the figure remained, and Link continued to debate with himself, a knife pondering over its use.

Link stood icily, for what seemed like hours, but finally with a breath of reluctance, the Hylian backed away.

_What was that about?_

Ganondorf lost all of his remaining feelings of security. His heart pounded through his chest and he prayed that the noise wouldn't betray him. Sleep embraced him once his body exhausted.

* * *

The morning swelled into focus with a golden light. The crickets that had so triumphantly sang the night before were now absent, and so the only sounds came from the heights of the trees--a few chirps and warbles from rehearsing birds. 

Having finally accomplished his night of sleep, Ganondorf decided to attempt waking up. He blinked again and again--his vision stubbornly remained somewhat foggy nonetheless--and shook with a newfound energy. His rest had been deep and remarkably refreshing. Everything was clear to him. His thoughts were no longer muddy or confused, and his body felt alive. The pain at his side, too, had almost completely vanished.

And so, Ganondorf was almost uncharacteristically satisfied. His limbs twitched in rhythm, a cheerful tune singed his memory, and the morning light seemed unnaturally bright. Ganondorf, for that moment, couldn't understand how this return to the natural world was to be a punishment. He was feeling good.

He sat up, and then the reality hit him like a rock. A red figure flared and vanished in front of his eyes, and then he saw Link standing alone. A quiet conversation had just come to a close, and Ganondorf moaned. Din had visited.

Link brushed himself off, more as a gesture of conclusion than one of cleansing, and breathed in wistfully. The milky eyes looked up aimlessly. "Are you awake?" Link tested.

Ganondorf grunted but didn't stand up.

Link frowned and folded his arms, giving in reluctantly to the situation. "Din informed me into what was going on."

Again, Ganondorf avoided any conversation. He was getting a headache, and furthermore, he was getting depressed.

"I don't understand it," Link complained, shaking his head. "I don't _need_ a guide, and I most certainly don't need a _slave_." Link voiced the latter occupation with such contempt and freedom that Ganondorf was empowered to stand on his two feet.

"_Excuse_ me!" Ganondorf sputtered angrily, "I am _nothing_ of yours, boy!"

"Din seemed to have a different opinion," Link spoke mildly. "She said you are my responsibility, and that my safety is your concern. You're here to _serve_ me, villain."

"'Your responsibility'?" Ganon guffawed. "I don't even have to _be_ here. I could leave if I wished!"

"Regardless," Link sighed, more upset with the 'burden' than with Ganondorf's temper, "the fact is that you need me. If you leave me, I am vulnerable; if I am hurt, you are hurt; if I hurt you, you cannot hurt me in return."

Ganondorf's face was flushed red with fury. This was nothing less than a crime. Now, he_ really _wanted to hurt this boy. "I'm not your slave," he repeated breathlessly, his anger straining his voice.

"Then you better get used to the idea."

_Snotty brat_. Ganondorf stomped impotently, though he knew what Link was saying was true. He didn't have much choice in this situation, so his only option was to stay close, whether he liked it or not.

The birds were singing louder. The cicadas began to join in with their monotonous buzzing. The sunlight was melting over Ganon's sweaty, batting eyelids, in a wondrous wave of warmth. The currents of deep-rooted rivers were flowing and bubbling, the veins of water stretched over the summer's landscape.

He was feeling better.

His mind left him, so he wasn't paying attention when Link told him that Din was giving Ganondorf a horse. He only dumbly nodded, which under the circumstance was even more deluded, for Link could not see the movement of his head. When he turned to see his old, black horse with a fiery mane of red, he didn't feel surprised. The ghastly beast seemed to fit amongst these shadows of trees, its untamed eyes fitting for a wild animal of the woods. All that he wondered was how his horse was to be used. Then he saw that the goddess had courteously left a saddle on its back, though little else. Its armor was nowhere to be seen.

How the goddess liked to play with him.

He approached the bulky horse, hoping it would remember his scent. The animal grazed nonchalantly, not even turning its head to his touch. He could feel its overwhelming lungs and heartbeat, its velvet coat covered in flecks of dust and brimming with heat. It was huge, alive, yet despite its size it was utterly tame. This huge animal could effortlessly kill him with a toss of its head, and yet it yielded to him, and allowed his hand to smooth over its muscle and skin. He could touch it, pat it, kiss it, and still it would be at peace with him.

"You do know where I'm headed, don't you?" Link inquired, standing by while Ganondorf reeled in his horse.

Ganondorf shrugged. "I have nowhere else to go--go ahead and tell me."

"I'm going back to the castle."

Ganondorf would have cursed if he was grounded in reality, but his eyes strayed to the fluttering overgrowth of the woods. "I see." He then got onto his horse effortlessly.

Link heard this effort and protested. "Aren't I going to ride?"

Ganondorf sneered. "Yeah, right. _You_ can walk."

The horse snorted and Ganondorf led it forward in his path. Link, too tired to object to Ganon's antics, merely ambled onward, attempting to follow the sound of the horse's hooves. This was a treacherous sentence, for the terrain was rough and Link had no way to see what to prepare for.

"Which way do I head?" Ganondorf asked lazily.

"East," Link bitterly replied.

There was another long period of silence. Ganondorf continued to ride in a steady, paced manner, only so that Link had some time to maneuver down the path and catch up. They were unhappy with each other, and so the conversations lapsed for the next hour. Ganondorf mused on how patiently Link was trekking, and how little complaint the boy was expressing. However, Ganon's thoughts were swallowed by the dizzy and glittering landscape.

The air was fresh and cool. They both gradually moved uphill until they reached the height of the grounds, and there, Ganondorf's head fell back, eyes gazing into the vastness of the sky. There were no clouds, no barriers between the brightness of the sun and the health of the earth, and the light poured over the trees. Ganondorf devoured it greedily, his fondness for the sun suddenly reborn, and growing with a terrible fervor. His skin hadn't felt such a pure touch in years, and had since bleached, but now he could feel the rays giving his flesh its true tone. The horse beneath him rocked and bowed, step by step emerging from the depths he had slept in.

He awoke only to chastise the Hylian for his sloth.

"Can't you be any faster?" he roared impatiently, turning his head to search for his reluctant traveling partner.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Link calmly explained, though it was obvious from his restrained tone that he was holding back his irritation. Link painfully felt his way around another tree stump and tangled web of vines. "Wouldn't this whole thing be a lot less painful if I rode with you?"

"Are you _mad_, boy?" Ganondorf balked adamantly. "First of all, you are _not_ riding my horse; second of all, in no universe are we going to ride on the_ same horse_. Grow some common sense!"

_Not to mention you'll probably try to kill me while you're at it, as you so valiantly considered doing last night._

Link was practically quivering from his bridled temper. Every word shook with a falsely collected tone. "If you would _just_ let me ride, and you were to guide me, then perhaps it wouldn't take so long."

"First you say you don't need a guide," Ganondorf mocked, "and now you are asking for one." The horse galloped for a few feet, drumming the ground in a distinct playfulness, as though jeering. Ganondorf spat triumphantly. "You are _not _getting any help from me."

* * *

Ganondorf tugged the reins slightly to the right and mumbled something incoherently. He looked again up from the ground at Link, who was sitting atop the horse in an absorbed silence, and Ganon had to yet again ask himself how it came to be. 

It didn't really matter.

They ventured into some shade and a few crows flapped overhead. Ganondorf snorted, stepping over a branch, and lead his horse toward the narrow edge of the approaching brook. Ganondorf's feet were killing him.

With one hand he led the horse. With the other, he smoothed his mussed hair and smeared the beaded sweat from his eyesight. It seemed he had been walking for ages. All the comforts of the natural world immediately withered under the oppressive burden of labor, and the growing dissatisfaction with his traveling partner made the burden even harder to bear. _Lazy thing!_ Ganondorf swore with all his might. _He must enjoy playing the victim with this disability of his--he's even garnered pity from me!_

Ganondorf tried desperately not to think about it, for it soured his mood, and this made the pain in his feet swell. But similarly, the pain kept him grounded and unable to fantasize, and without his imagination, things seemed more dire and unhappy--for indeed, they were. He was trekking endlessly, with no hope of rest, all the while guiding a miserable weasel of a person who just _sat _there while he did all the work and _still _felt entitled to--

The horse nudged him. Ganondorf blinked from the heat of his temper, and once he snapped out of it, he realized he had stopped dead in his tracks in the midst of his mental tantrum.

"Is something wrong?" Link asked, obviously wondering why they stopped moving.

Ganondorf shook it off. "No, nothing." They began to move again, and Ganondorf shuddered. He felt ill, his stomach churning at every foul thought he managed. He wanted to throw up at the absurdity of the situation, but of course he didn't. His nerves were shot. He couldn't breathe. His feet--_GODS, they HURT_!

Ganondorf's limbs were so singed with anger and hate that they began to fail. He could feel his arms trembling and dying, his feet giving up beneath him, his lungs flattening. He forced a thin gasp for air and in desperation looked up at Link.

"...Why..."

He clenched every joint in his body, refusing to let himself faint, and decided he had to start a conversation if he was to survive much longer.

"Why are you heading out for the castle?"

A stupid and obvious question, yes, but it was a question--one that could be answered and be developed into something to distract him from his suffocation. Link looked surprised at being spoken to, and finally answered. "Well, actually, it's an event. Princess Zelda is hosting a gathering, and Her Majesty has deemed me an important guest."

Ganondorf squinted, eyes watering from the sharpness of the pain from his stomach, and tried not to interpret the words in any subjective way lest his readings result in a more furious tantrum. He tried not to focus on his bodily failings and concentrated on the issue at hand. Ganondorf became rabid in conversation. "What's the event for?" he gasped.

Link paused. "I don't know."

Ganondorf knew Link was lying but decided not to think about it. The conversation stopped dead very suddenly, and so Ganondorf instead concentrated on Link's appearance. He looked to a noticeable flash of color at his fingers, and saw a crested ring of silver. Ganondorf rolled theories around in his head to keep his mind busy. Maybe it was a royal ring. Is Link part of a royal family now? Or maybe it's some obscure, secret organization? Or perhaps, even, it is a part of some military branch? Link did seem to be apt for fighting.

Then Ganondorf looked at the boy's face.

Ganondorf wasn't sure why it fascinated him so, but one thing was for sure: Link was handsome. However, it seemed there was something beyond that. There was something that piqued Ganondorf's curiosity, and caused him to unwittingly stop again.

He couldn't help but speculate what this haunting expression was betraying. There were no elements of fear, uncertainty, or innocence. It was hard, cold, stiffly barred from any readings. There were hints of anger in his face, but those were minimal. He was emotionless and distant. There were such bizarre puzzles to be found out just from his eyes, those off-blue eyes that seemed so dead and soulless... Ganondorf was captivated for a full minute with the total lack of emotion.

Then, Link looked at him with an accurate guess of where his face lay. "Ganondorf, are you _trying_ to be odd?"

Ganondorf had been so enamored that he jumped from the sudden move. "N-no, sir!"

Ganondorf's mouth shut and he paled. He almost said something to correct his slip, but it seemed silly to bring attention to it, and so Ganondorf miserably sunk into a silence. His embarrassment shrouded him so strongly that he successfully overcame the feelings of hatred that threatened to destroy him.

However, he was so ashamed of his slip that he never realized this victory.


	3. behind her eyes

**Chapter 3**: **behind her eyes**

Well, I managed to finish another chapter. Don't ask me how I'm managing it—I'm fighting the temptation to write ahead too much and I usually can't crank out stuff like this all the time.

I know these chapters have been interesting to read, but as you've noticed, not much has happened so far. Trust me, this story is not going to be about Link and Ganondorf whining for about 20 chapters. There shall be a plot! The trouble, though, is that the plot is extremely complex, so it is going to take a few chapters to fully set up. My advice: pay attention to details. I'm not going to wind this whole story up and then get too mixed up to tie it all together. This is fully panned out already—outline and all.

This chapter's really long… Oh boy! It's actually twice as long as chapter 2! Just to let you know: expect about this length from now on. I am the master of dragging things out.

All reviews are greatly appreciated. Don't be afraid to e-mail me if you're confused and need an explanation on something. I have a lot of free time oo;;

* * *

"I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally." **W.C. Fields**

Ganondorf emitted a long and jaded breath. The heat had grown to a considerable intensity as noon passed on, and he had to blink away the sweat dripping down his brow.

He encountered a new enemy as the day of walking continued: his hunger. He had not eaten since he emerged from the Evil Realm the day before, and it was beginning to take its toll on his energy level. His stomach growled, his mind was faint, and still he was moving onward, fighting the temptation to collapse. Though the possibility grew as the forest crushed him with the suffocating heat, he could not bear the thought of committing such an indignity as passing out. Not in front of Link--not now.

Ganondorf wearily wondered where his energy had disappeared to. His magic had grown faulty, as had his health. He began to reminiscence back to the dryness of the desert, of long days spent wandering the barren lands of sand. The desert was simple to trek, for it was flat and free of hurdles, and Ganondorf could recall his ability to travel days without rest. These memories only magnified his despondency. He accused himself of weakness, knowing that he used to be able to manage such things, and that now he could barely survive a day of traveling through some woods.

Ganondorf opened his mouth, inhaling the hot moisture in the air, the memories of the dead desert growing all the more vivid. This world was sharp in contrast--it was full of life and darkness, rocks left unturned and crevices remaining hidden from sight. The woods offered both a comfort and a sense of threat, for though there was bountiful life breathing around him, there was plenty of opportunity for the more sinister forces to hide. The shadows were long, the trees were deceitful, and the undergrowth protected all that he could not see. The desert, though barren of life, was similarly barren of enemies.

Ganondorf grunted. His legs had grown numb. He cursed his lack of endurance, muttering the impossibility of such rapid loss in so few years. Ganondorf always viewed himself as somehow immortal, unable to comprehend the decay that comes with old age. He frantically read back to his days in his twenties, despite the fact that he was well past this decade of youth. If he could do it all those years ago, he thought, surely it would make sense to do the same now. But his body could not endure his unrealistic expectations.

He was beginning to limp. He tried to stifle his gasps and grabbed for his horse's side, hand burying into its mane for assistance.

Link heard his sudden slip. "Are you alright, Gerudo?" he inquired with a bit of contempt.

"_Fine_," Ganondorf unconvincingly coughed.

They both fell silent and Ganondorf at last persuaded his body to continue onward. He swallowed his convulsions, pushing back the impending blackness and again seeking out a source to depend on. He needed something to pique his interest, to coax him from the pleasant call of rest and relief.

Before his senses could return to him, a raven battered its wings in his face mid-swoop. The bird clumsily knocked past the steed, but the horse remained quite unalarmed in face of the assault. The raven squawked noisily, landing stoutly on the ground. The critter shook, cocked its charcoal head, glassy eyes watching the strangers as they traveled. Ganondorf took notice of the viewer and inadvertently returned its gaze. The shadowed creature blinked and gave Ganondorf an obtuse look before taking flight again, spiraling in the air.

The horse had stopped. Link was losing his patience with the man's thoughtlessness but begrudgingly allowed the pause. A breeze passed through, bristling their hair, bowing the trees, and waving their cloaks. This unnerving meditation continued for several minutes.

"Why do you stay so silent?" Link demanded suddenly, breaking Ganondorf's idle quiet. Ganondorf hadn't realized just how long he had stood there, staring at a conversational raven.

Ganondorf had no real answer and so he gave the same excuse he had given all of his life. "I'm just thinking."

"Thinking?" Link frowned, but as this concept rolled about the boy's head, he looked up with a superior whiff. "Do you regret all the things you've done?"

Ganondorf did not reply immediately, but not because he was offended by the comment. In fact, he was confused by Link's question. He didn't know what the boy meant. What had he done?

He had slaughtered hundreds in his selfish massacres. He had overthrown a gentle world to unbury and mine its treasures, torn apart its civilians, ravaged the very air of the country.

But did he feel sorry? What sort of question was that? Ganondorf's mind turned back to the ebony feathers of the crow, the scavenger whose eyes flashed like obsidian, and he watched the bird's listless dance. He opened his mouth, the answer coming from his lips effortlessly and without purpose or significance. "No, I don't."

Link recoiled best he could with a shocked look of disgust, as though near something unclean. Ganondorf didn't understand this sentiment and struggled to read Link's emotions. Link hated him all over again, all because of those things he had done, but it seemed silly on its face. Ganondorf thought it was an absurd grudge. After all, it hadn't really happened, had it? Those seven years vanished like smoke, leaving the present untouched and pure, and even the dead he left were walking about, completely healthy. What did it matter that he had crushed those people and didn't regret it? What did it matter, even if it _was_ the present? What did Link hope for him to do? He had done these things, indeed. He had raped the world Link held with such fervor and love... How would regret change those crimes?

"Why don't you regret those things?" Link challenged, becoming angry.

"Because they don't matter," Ganondorf answered. "And what I feel about them doesn't matter."

Link shook with illness, overcome with frustration. "You're wrong, you're wrong," he sputtered, and for the first time Ganondorf almost saw him moved to tears. The saltwater burned his expression from fury and agony, and Ganondorf was almost brought to attention by Link's outburst. But the screams grew monotonous and benign. He just stared while Link told him about himself, about how horrible all the things he had done were. Link was telling him something, but Ganondorf stopped paying attention. His eyes peered right past this despaired boy, and he continued to watch the attractive bird.

The crow growled and took flight, batting its wings against a branch of yellow leaves.

"I know you must be sorry about _something_."

Ganondorf kept his eyes on the blackbird until it faded in the shadows of the woods. Absently, Ganondorf thought it odd that Link was so convinced of his conscience's convictions. He decided to let the boy play with his games and imagine that he had some hidden, secretive guilt; but Ganondorf had been telling the truth to its fullest.

He thought over and over again about those people who suffered and died, and sometimes he would even try to pretend he felt guilty, but then the artificial feeling betrayed itself and failed. How was he to feel sorry for those people--those_ things _that did nothing? It made no sense.

"If you could have done it all over again, would you do it differently?"

"That's a stupid question," Ganondorf retaliated, tired of such bothersome prodding. "Of course I wouldn't."

He was fine with the way things turned out. He was not unhappy, no matter how much Link wanted him to be. He didn't mind being there; he didn't mind being an outcast; he didn't mind having nowhere to go. Things could have been better--so what? They weren't, and he was fine with that.

Link soon grew tired of trying to pry guilt from the Gerudo and retreated, falling silent once again. Without his bird, Ganondorf reluctantly began to continue moving across the ground. However, he began to realize his pattern of drowning his pain in distraction was not going to last much longer. The darkness grew stronger, and his body all the more fatigued. His senses protested loudly, vibrating through his skull in complaint. He quietly moaned, hiding his misery best he could, hoping Link's sharpened senses would not pick up on his facade.

He was gasping, hot, weary, and his stomach roared.

He tried to tell himself to press on, but for the first time his body objected to this advice.

"Ganondorf," Link whined abruptly, worry and suspicion tainting his tone.

Ganondorf closed his eyes, panting, feeling a distinct weight on his shoulders pushing downwards, forcing him into the dirt...

"It's been all day, Ganondorf," Link pointed out, evidently cross. "I should at least be in the Hyrule fields now."

Ganondorf had no answer to this conundrum. He wasn't even aware of how long it was supposed to take. Gods, he didn't care. He just wanted to stop and rest and drink and eat... A nearby stream was ravaging his senses with its increasingly loud sounds of flow, the delicious scent of water mocking him with its distance.

"Are we even going east?" Link accused suddenly, voice heightening.

Ganondorf didn't know what to say. He knew the answer, he knew what Link was implying, but he wasn't ready to defend himself...

"I get it now!" Link burst with his unsteady temper, his restrained emotions unleashed without warning. "You've been lying to me! Where are we going? _Tell me!_"

Ganondorf wanted to tell Link that he was a paranoid rat, that he had done_ exactly_ what Link requested and was leading him east to the castle. However, the demands were overwhelming in that split second, his head crippled by the lack of nourishment and rest.

"What are you planning? Where are you taking me?"

The screams fell on deaf ears--Ganondorf feverishly groped for the sounds and scents of water, mind beginning to fantasize about food: meat and fruit and wine...

"This is a trap--a concoction of yours! _I'm not falling for it!_"

Ganondorf fell with a thud, and with that move, he came as close to winning the argument as he ever could have.

* * *

Link was dumbfounded.

One minute, the Gerudo man was making all sorts of strange noises, and he was yelling at the man for being a liar, and the next minute he was left in a somewhat eerie silence following a dull thud. Link panicked momentarily, almost afraid that this was evidence of a rather sudden death.

_That_ was something he didn't need.

"Ganon?"

No answer. The horse he was seated upon seemed at peace, at least, but Link considered the possibility that this war hose was not easily excitable. The horse's calm wasn't the best factor to depend on when trying to sense trouble.

Link, empty-handed in terms of options, finally dismounted. He hesitated to approach what he supposed was a body, as though this, too, could be a part of Ganondorf's deviant plan. He stretched out his hand testily, feeling for any abnormalities as he came closer, and he found nothing until he leaned downwards. There, he discovered the plate of armor at the Gerudo's shoulder, and felt the man lying lifeless at the basin of the forest floor. His fingers explored the unconscious man thoroughly, carefully ensuring its quiet. Ganondorf, he realized, had quite clearly fainted. From the moisture swelling along his skin and his feverish temperature, Link figured it was from an exhaustion of sorts--heat stroke, perhaps, with a combination of dehydration, both easily connected with his restless hike.

Link frowned from the peculiarity of the problem. He hadn't expected heat to be a trouble for this desert man. However, Link shed his thoughts effortlessly and set out to work.

Link was not romantically interested in the forest's noises, though he paid an almost mechanical attention to it. He realized after a moment that they were standing on a somewhat breezy side of a hill, its slope rooted with the resounding flow of fresh water. Link fell silent, blinked, then turned in the direction he determined to be the stream's placement. The smell of water grew all the more appealing as he realized his own thirst, but he was far too concentrated on his new goal to mind the dryness of his throat. He only had one desire: to get the Gerudo moving again as quickly as possible.

The leather flask flowed with the brisk flow of water, pulsing slightly as though imitating a heartbeat, submerged in water and drinking up the precious liquid. Link felt it fill in his grip, and he withdrew the flask, readying it for use. He felt the heavy bag at his back, but held the weight without breaking into a sweat. He knew there was a plentiful supply of food at his back, so he felt secure in the face of the Gerudo's fainting spell. If the man was hungry, he had enough to share.

Link carefully retraced his steps back to Ganondorf, but as he did so, he abruptly bumped into the horse's muzzle. Wielding a flask of water, Link took hold of its reins and softly chastised it for straying from its master. "Now, what are you following me for?"

The stallion's mouth wandered over Link's arm and forcefully bit the flask's nozzle, smelling its contents and obviously desiring some. Link laughed and pulled it away, sealing it before the horse could snatch it from his grip and spill it. "It's not for you, girl; I'll get you watered in a minute. Show me where your owner is so I can get him on his feet."

The animal wasn't offended by Link's unfounded assumption of its gender, and as though it understood his subtle pulls in the opposite direction, it turned around and began to trail in Ganondorf's direction. Link took hold of its saddle and followed it, pleased with its cooperation. Link meanwhile hastily cleaned the horse's saliva from the nozzle with a brisk rub against his cloak. Ganondorf wouldn't know the difference.

He found Ganondorf, still stiffened in the same position, and Link began to move him without a second thought. Every move towards the unconscious man was eerily instinctual and impulsive, and Link's approach was utterly memorized down to the last detail, like rehearsed dance steps. He turned the man onto his back, identified the head and face, and with a twitch of the wrist, Link offered a splash of the cool liquid onto Ganondorf's face.

It was brilliantly cold--Ganondorf twitched and his lips opened from shock.

Another splash, and his mouth took a grand gasp of air. He breathed in a droplet or two of the water, and soon he was coughing and convulsing from hungry and heat. The splashing ceased, but his coughing grew, and before he could even open his eyes or understand what was going on around him, Link's hand slipped beneath his head. Link swiftly propped his head up and put the flask of chilly water to his lips. Dizzy and thirsty, Ganondorf accepted it without question even as it was practically drowning him. The water overflowed in his mouth, and his coughing was buried in the flow of water, causing a few spews of water to fly from his lips.

He sucked it, greedily consuming it with every available breath, the freezing water sending frenzied chills through his body. His thirst steadily subsided as the last of it disappeared, and his mouth released the flask with a gasp for air. His head fell back, inhaling sharply for the oxygen he had compensated for the sake of breathing in the delicious drink. His eyes remained closed, but his eyesight swam from delusions and colors.

Link placed Ganondorf's head back onto the ground and retreated, having accomplished what he set out for.

Link felt a lick of wind and wondered if it meant rain--the temperature was dropping somewhat, and the smell of the air was growing moist. He huffed, feeling the stony dirt under his feet and deciding to water Ganon's horse. He muttered the unfortunate possibility of rain, and hoped it would not damper their travels. He didn't want to be late.

Ganondorf felt angels slipping past him with whispers, the water swirling in his mouth, feeling the crispness and intimacy of the dirt beneath him. The wind drinked from his lips, the freshness of the breeze finally opening his eyes. He found himself staring into the face of the sky, seeing her growing discontent, her rolling darkness threatening to drench the world he lay upon. Somehow, he felt blessed. A dribble of water traveled down the side of his cheek as it slipped from his mouth, and he fully swallowed the remaining liquid, feeling it swell in his stomach with a wonderful satisfaction. He smiled, and the sky of dark clouds seemed to smile back, shielding him from the sun's punishing rays.

Link cursed the water; Ganondorf blessed it a countless number of times.

Ganondorf sat up.

"Are you hungry?"

Ganondorf stood up before he gained his strength back, and so collapsed in his excitement at hearing the mentioning of food. His legs fell from under him, and in a desperate attempt to regain his composure, he simply barked, "Yes."

Link tossed his sack aside, and Ganondorf lunged for it.

"There should be plenty of fresh food," Link informed him lazily, and in Ganondorf's hunger, he found it to be true. It was filled to the brim with rosy apples, the deep crimson nearly hurting his eyes. As Ganondorf shuffled through the fruit, impatiently searching for something more filling, he unearthed--could it be?--a package of white paper, and as he opened it, he found a slab meat. His eyes nearly glazed over from excitement.

"Why didn't you tell me you had this?" Ganondorf demanded suddenly, smelling it to test whether this was some sort of mental trick.

"You didn't ask; I assumed you weren't hungry," Link replied.

The world rocked with another blistering blow of wind and Ganondorf, despite the awkwardness, began to eat. The meat was fresh, moist and swirling in its juices. He could still taste the bloodiness of the flesh, and as he consumed it, the mechanics of his thoughts began to process the meat's state.

This food wouldn't last long in a sack like this. Only a day or two could go by without the food spoiling, and from the looks of how the meat was being carried, it was more likely purchased from a butcher than hunted. The apples, too, were supple and glowing from human care. Ganondorf tore into the food rigorously but his mind could not leave this concept untouched. Link had been in a village not very long ago. In fact, he must've only been in the woods for a day or two. Link had probably gone out for a hunting trip, but Ganondorf didn't understand why he had gone alone. Surely he understood being blind was not helpful in these matters.

The shreds of meat sank down his throat and settled in his stomach. The raw taste permeated through his mouth and nose. Everything smelled wet and seemed to mulch under the pressure of the clouds ahead. The wind began to roar, and birds flocked and spun in the air, panicking from the change in weather. However, Ganondorf paid the incoming typhoon no attention and plucked an apple from the bag. He had finished the meat and was thoughtfully buried his teeth into the frothy fruit.

Link sat down across from him on the ground, as though he wanted to talk, but Ganondorf didn't care. He chewed at the first bite he had in his mouth, staring into the grayness of the sky.

"Ganon..."

Ganondorf glanced down, just to read Link's expression to gather clues. He wilted in disgust at the pathetic look Link was giving him--the boy was fidgety, trying to swallow his pride. As Ganondorf stuffed another bite into his mouth, he emitted a muffled curse as the juices dribbled down his lips.

_Don't you **dare** to try and apologize to me--_

"I haven't been very considerate of you since this all started," Link began carefully, "and I just want to say I'm sorry."

Ganondorf couldn't take this and tried not to listen. He hated when people tried to apologize to him--it all seemed to fake and pointless.

"I know now that you've been working very hard to do what I've asked, but I didn't intend for you to cause injury to yourself in doing so... I should've realized you needed rest and I accept full responsibility."

Ganondorf shut his eyes and wished Link would shut up--he was practically drowning in the sap. The boy was making a fool of himself.

"You have to understand," Link insisted fervently, taking Ganon's silence as some sort of reluctance to forgive him, "it didn't take me very long at all to come here, so you must see why I was so suspicious--"

Ganondorf swallowed the food in his mouth and started to laugh. He cackled at the stupidity of the situation--Link, begging for forgiveness, from _him_? "You don't have to pretend to be sorry for my sake, boy."

Link sat back in shock at first, but was soon flustered with the accusation. "What do you mean, 'pretend'?"

"Am I honestly supposed to believe this filth you're spewing?" Ganondorf spat. "I know you're not sorry, and I don't mind that. Don't waste your energy trying to get me to forgive you."

"But I _am _sorry."

"Even if you are, _so what_?" Ganondorf retorted, this time with a fresh anger. "It's not fixing anything and you don't have to be!"

Link was bewildered and reeling from this unexpected bitterness, all hopes of repairing what was broken having disappeared before him. "I was only..."

"Never mind," Ganondorf huffed, realizing now that this was far beyond Link's grasp. "Apology accepted."

By the time Link fell silent, Ganondorf was furious. He loathed the fact that Link was so insistent on apologizing, acting as though it were necessary and productive. Why didn't the boy realize he didn't _want_ an apology? The situation was humiliating enough without getting entangled in senseless guilt-mongering. Besides, it wasn't Link's fault. Yes, he had fainted, and maybe Link had been a little irritable, but who was to blame for that? Ganondorf had pushed himself to faint, and Link had every reason to be angry.

Beyond this, Ganondorf struggled with this new personality he had to put up with. He had never been around anyone so eager to take the blame for things, nor anyone who was so easily swayed and upset. This boy was at first a rabid creature, and then a more lethargic and snide thing, and now he was trying to apologize for his behavior. It was nonsense. How many demons did this boy have? Surely, he must have had a few, though they seemed to be a little relaxed.

Ganondorf tried not to dwell on it.

The horse had finished its drink and was loyally plotting back to its owner's side. Link heard the steps and approached it, sighing at Ganondorf's queer behavior. Link felt out the horse and gripped the saddle at its back. Ganondorf, finally feeling a little rested, joined him on the horse's opposite side. They both caressed its coat, enamored with the silkiness of the beast. They fell into a less awkward silence then, speaking without words as they communicated through the beauty of the animal. They shared a passion for horses, so no words were needed. They both meditated between the rumbling sky and the breathing earth, hands resting on the flesh and blood that had carried them this far.

"She's a beautiful one, isn't she?" Link obliged quietly, feeling the horse's mane.

Ganondorf paused, then snorted with less tolerance than the horse had. "It's a stallion."

Link didn't miss a beat. "Ah," he apologized, touching its muzzle, "then you're a _handsome_ thing."

There was a faint rumble of thunder. They both continued to babble as though nothing was imminent.

"Does he have a name?" Link asked.

"Gershom."

"Oh."

There was another silence. Ganondorf, feeling a faint drop of water strike his head, pressed his face into the horse's neck, suddenly overcome with his love for it, taking in its scent, hearing its powerful heartbeat, feeling its warmth. He breathed, sighed, touching the only living creature he could feel in union with.

Water was falling briskly from the sky. Link groaned in irritation and shielded his head from the impending first drops. "Damn it."

Ganondorf didn't know what made him do it, but the moment Link said it, something snapped, and he compulsively ordered, "Don't say that."

Link made a puzzled look. "What?"

Ganondorf suddenly felt vexed. He wasn't sure what bothered him, but as Link said that, it didn't seem natural. Ganondorf was facing the disconcerting reality that this was not a boy, and perhaps not even an innocent one at that. Ganondorf was too attached and comfortable with this image. Link had said something no small boy would say, and so he jumped in and objected. "Just... Don't saythat."

Link raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Ganondorf shuddered from the shockwave of cold moving in. "I don't know," he pursued in agony.

"Do you have something against my language?"

"No," Ganondorf scoffed. "I don't care."

"But you don't want me to say it?"

"Never mind!"

"What am I allowed to say?" Link began to tease.

"_DAMN IT, BOY, I SAID 'NEVER MIND!'_"

That destroyed any chances of humane conversation, and so they both ceased speaking.

Needless to say, they were both baffled by the others' behavior, but this was just as well. This was the first time they had ever attempted to have conversations and the beginning of what would have to be a relationship. Whether they liked it or not, they would have to figure out how to bear each other, but after these disastrous attempts, they were both increasingly pessimistic. Not only was Link being complex, but Ganondorf was being especially confusing.

In fact, Ganondorf was equally confused with himself. His mouth fired off without mental order, so randomly that he could not defend it.

It was raining lightly and so Link packed his things. They set off again, this time with more vigor, and Ganondorf assured Link they would be in the fields soon.

* * *

The rain was gentle but enough to give Ganon chills. Fog swirled among the dripping trees, and everything was cold.

Ganondorf gathered his cloak tighter around his chest.

However, to his relief, there were the fields, and there, sunlight was blooming again. Though the rain did not let up, even as his horse stepped onto the first patch of grass, he could sense the light's approach and prayed it would come soon. Without sun, he withered and grew weak.

Ganondorf gazed out into the fields. The color was obscured by the grayness of the rainfall and fog, but beneath these gloomy colors, he could see the wheat green and gold that speckled the landscape. He looked further on, but his sight was limited by a hillside and so he couldn't identify the direction of the castle.

"We're in the fields now," he almost bragged to the boy who was still in his spot atop the horse.

Link merely nodded to show he had heard.

Ganondorf was nearly paralyzed by the sight of this grass, not because they threatened him, but because now he was in Hyrule again. He remembered these fields so vividly, but it had still been years. The fields were dream-like, too good and precious to be real. The fields were the one thing Ganondorf had fallen in love with, the one thing that had enticed him to try and take the rest of this land, the one thing that had betrayed him... This clash of love and hate forced a heavy convulsion from his lungs. The wind that blew across this land was perfect and nourishing, but at least for now the rain drowned this nostalgia out. There was no breeze except a chilly and wet one, which gave no comfort to either traveler.

The sunlight approached. Ganondorf breathed a relaxed sigh.

While the rain eased, the horse seemed encouraged by the rolling hills, no longer having to endure the struggle of traveling through heavy forest. It skipped almost playfully, before Ganondorf's sluggishness dragged it back. Ganondorf could feel himself breathing again, the air free of the forest's humidity and musk.

As Ganondorf watched the distant silhouette of the castle come into form, he decided it was best to force a conversation.

"So..." He cleared his throat readily. "What exactly will you be doing?"

"Oh," Link dismissed, "very boring things, really. A special occasion, and all that. I'll mostly have to make conversation with aristocrats and politicians and simultaneously trying not to offend them."

That sounded familiar. "And I?"

"You?" Link blinked, then nodded in confirmation of the problem. "Yes, you... That _is _a puzzle. We wouldn't want the townsfolk to see you, much less the royalty..."

"That isn't a trouble," Ganondorf responded. "I have a spell to solve that. Really, I just want to know where I can stay. Unless you _want_ to sleep in the same bed."

Link must have only listened to Ganondorf's comment partially, because he didn't look at all disturbed at what he heard. "...I could always rent a room at an inn, so long as you keep yourself locked up and out of sight. I'm sure I could get you the food as well, while I stay at the castle... I'll just ask the cook to send some food up to my room and you can stop by."

Ganondorf mused that Link had obviously spent some time setting this up in his mind. The offer was silently accepted.

* * *

No one could see him. The cloaking spell was a simple one, and in the blink of an eye Ganondorf found himself effortlessly entering the town's gates. Link was now on his feet and leading the horse, while Ganondorf stood close behind him.

The peasants were few in number due to the rain, but even those who remained glanced at Link without much suspicion.

Of course, they did not see Ganondorf.

He wondered whether they would have noticed him regardless of the invisibility.

Ganondorf stared hard at every rock surface that anchored this town, from the smooth slate slabs under his feet to the intimidating arches over his head. In the midst of dripping water, the stone gave the town a particularly gloomy and wet look. Ganondorf tried to disregard the chilliness he felt, and his eyes caught a distinct black flutter. He looked up and saw a crow sitting atop a roof, cawing in protestation, pulsing its wings to escape the wetness.

Ganondorf's thoughts clicked, and suddenly he didn't feel comfortable. Was that the same crow he had seen earlier? The bird certainly felt familiar, but Ganondorf told himself that the idea was silly. All crows looked the same to him, anyway.

Its ebony gaze gave him a headache.

"This way," Link whispered, turning to the left. Ganondorf divorced himself from the bird and looked to the cluster of buildings Link was aiming for. "Go down that alley and the inn will be the second on your left."

And so Ganondorf did, pressing against his horse's ribs, searching for some heat in this godforsaken town, clasping his numb hands together. Ganondorf could not bear to examine this town or even begin to read its face--his observations became confused, for everything he saw was lost in the sea of gray stone and marble. Everything blurred into a stony haze, so that he could barely make out the figures that shuffled through the city. As he pressed the horse in the right direction, and as Link followed suite, he noticed a few other travelers passing them. An indiscernible face sat atop a decorated white horse and then this figure passed away into the drizzling rain with a glitter of royal gold, and similarly passed away from Ganondorf's memory.

"What sort of people are going to the castle?" he inquired softly, as not to be caught.

"All sorts," Link replied. "Mostly royalty and foreign leaders."

The alleyway was daunting and lopsided. Ganondorf had to close his eyes and follow the horse's lead to escape the pathway's pressure. Breathing suddenly became more difficult amidst all the moisture and dampness. He couldn't understand how people live in such crowded areas, in which all oxygen is robbed.

"We're here."

Link stepped up to the door and made his entrance. Ganondorf unwittingly had to stand outside, having received no instructions and feeling perplexed. Should he step inside? Instead of moving, he waited for several minutes, and found himself nodding off. The rain was no more than a steady dripping, splashing over his shoulders, and he wearily rested against his horse, hearing faint voices converse inside the inn.

What were they talking about? He couldn't care less. The sky grumbled in upset, the afternoon beginning to fade into the seduction of dusk. The town, this town that he had before conquered and trampled, existed as such a pest to him now, reminding him ruthlessly of his failures. He was just about the curse it when Link stumbled outside again. He closed the door to avoid being heard, and scolded, "What are you doing just standing there?"

Ganondorf snorted haplessly.

"Get in here!"

Link was getting snappy again.

When Ganondorf entered the inn he was overwhelmed by the scent of red pine. He couldn't stand the smell and began to breathe through his mouth. There was almost no one else save for the innkeeper who was busy with his books, and a distant glimpse of a woman going up the stairway. Link ended up going the same direction and Ganondorf decided against stomping up the wooden stairs, so he did what he could to hover his way up without making any noise. Everything was silent; Ganon was becoming a bit unnerved.

Link drew out a key and unlocked the room. "Here," he instructed, holding the key out as he pushed the door open. Ganondorf took it and glanced inside in disappointment.

Well, maybe he was _expecting_ this.

The room was small and empty save for the bed at the other end of the room. It wasn't _bad_ exactly, but it wasn't up to Ganondorf's standards either.

"I'm sure it's good enough," Link hinted with impatience. "Stay here, will you? I'm off."

Ganondorf was careful to voice no actual agreement and yet simultaneously feign it. Fortunately for him, Link was not searching for any consent and quickly made his way off. Ganondorf, still standing shrouded by the spell, considered his options.

He could either stay here and die of boredom, or follow Link.

It was hardly fair competition.

Careful to be quiet, Ganondorf set out to track the boy's activity.

The rain had stopped, but as the moon loomed overhead, heat vanished from the stony city. The only clouds swallowed all the warmth, leaving Ganondorf shuddering helplessly. He tried to overlook such setbacks and concentrated on staying quiet. Though he doubted Link's ability to prevent him from following if he so wished it, Ganon found it simpler to not be caught.

Link circled around the inn, taking the horse with him. The people had mostly vanished from the plaza, leaving everything deserted and silent, but this dormant quiet was not to last long. Without hesitating, Link began to head towards the castle gates. The stone pillars vanished, and Ganondorf couldn't help but feel a bit relieved to be out of the city. The trodden dirt road and barricading hills surrounding the distant outline of the castle were hazed with green and a lush breeze. He could smell flowers and spring water, the expensive luxuries of nature pouring from the marble halls of royalty. It only seemed fitting.

The two guards were at quite a distance from Link when they first reacted to his presence. Apparently without much worry, they abandoned their posts, running and hollering like banshees in his direction. Ganondorf was at first quite alarmed by the charge, but soon realized they were only fooling around. Link froze in his steps only to compliment their insanity, and before he could comment on the clamor they were making, the three men collided. The two guards immediately began to banter like excited schoolboys.

"Where were you?"

"We thought you wouldn't show up--you're late!"

They were more overjoyed than offended, so Link laughed and tried to explain himself while passing them. "I got caught up in something along the way. How late can I possibly be? The main guests aren't here yet, are they?"

"Oh, no," one shook his head. Link had already moved right past them, so now they trailed behind as they approached the gate. "They won't be here for a few days."

"All the others are here, though," the other teased. "I didn't the Hero of Time would be the tardy one this time around."

Link was obviously in the company of friends, because nothing they said bothered him at all, and they broke down to making inside jokes at laughing at each other.

"Open the gate; I don't have all day."

And so the men opened the gate, and as Link left them behind, they both gave a vacant look at the horse that followed him.

"The thing looks familiar, doesn't it?"

Ganondorf slipped past the gate before it closed.

Once Link was confronted with a two more men at the foot of the towering castle's entrance, Ganondorf had to consider his options. Either he could continue to follow Link strictly, or trail off beyond his socialization. Surely, other things were happening inside the castle, and the boy was likely to linger with others and indulge in boring conversations. After weighing the two, he decided to try to catch the gist of the conversation going on before him.

One of the man was clearly a close friend and a soldier in the army, donned in uniform and inquiring what was sure to be the main topic of every conversation. "Why are you late?"

"I was running around in circles," Link smirked. "Now, why is everyone accusing me? I'm not _that_ late."

"Of course not, of course not," the soldier laughed. "How's your health been? I haven't seen you in ages--and last I saw you were in pretty bad shape."

"I've gotten better," Link offered. He paused, then read the soldier's curiosity and satisfied it. "I've gotten used to being blind; I can use my other senses quite well."

At this, the soldier shied and the conversation grew awkward. As though frightened of the topic, the soldier lowered his voice, shook his head, and murmured, "N-no, no, we needn't mention that..."

The silence was only broken by the soldier's glance at the horse.

"Is this thing yours?"

Link made a confused noise.

"This horse," the soldier clarified.

"Oh, yes. I found it."

'_A convincing story...'_ Ganondorf sarcastically mused.

"Heckuva find, huh?" The soldier nudged the quiet man next to him, apparently a servant, and informed him, "Take care of the thing for 'im, alright? Come on Link, everyone's waiting for you."

And so they were.

Ganondorf watched in mostly dull disinterest as Link was surrounded by even more soldiers, all curious about how well he had been doing 'since they last saw him.'

Ganondorf was beginning to piece this together. He followed Link inside the castle, gazing out into the stretch of marble and red carpet, the torches flickering and throwing light onto the countless faces. The group of talking heads moved readily towards the open courtyard, and soon they were in the hallway encircling the outdoor platform lying at the castle's center. Through the windows, Ganondorf could see the people--countless people, most of them diplomats, conversing and moving about. Some they passed in the hall, and Ganondorf carefully dodged their quick and deliberate steps. They were clearly rich, but the noblest ones were not particularly interested in Link's arrival. There were foreigners from other, nearby countries--allies of Hyrule nodded in Link's direction though they knew he could not see them, and those from the military jumped for the opportunity to talk to him.

They reached a corridor leading down into the courtyard, where the sunlight freely flowed in through the glass ceiling.

"It's a good thing that awful rain has stopped," a few were commenting.

An older soldier grabbed Link's arm and shook it. "Link, have you heard any news about the war?"

_War?_ Now Ganondorf was confused. There was no war in Hyrule. He didn't exist in history. How could there be a war?

"How's it been going?"

"Oh, beautifully, especially since you left it," the man joked. The others laughed boisterously, and for once even Link dropped his seriousness and joined in. "The war should end any week now."

_Wait a minute_, Ganondorf thought, stopping in his tracks. _Not only is there a war, but Link had been **fighting** in it?_

There was a _lot_ of explaining that Link had neglected.

"I know, I did awful things for it," Link smirked. "It's a good thing I lost my sight when I did."

At this, the soldiers ceased laughing and incessantly protested. "Link, don't say that," one whined. "You know we were just kidding. Don't be so morbid."

"I was kidding too," Link assured without any hurt feelings, though he seemed a little frustrated. "Why are you all so high-strung?" They laughed nervously and Link changed the subject. "You know what I need?" he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"A drink," three answered simultaneously.

"Exactly."

There was nothing less than a roar of laughter. This earned them a few unhappy looks from their more dignified neighbors.

"Come on, guys," a younger soldier urged. "There's nothing but champagne and fancy nonsense like that here." The boy began to whisper, as though hiding a dangerous secret, and leaned into Link's ear. Ganondorf overheard something about 'ale,' but the rest was lost in their sniggering. They continued onwards, clumsily shuffling together back to the hallways of the castle, immersed in conversation and thoughts of partying together. Ganondorf was a bit overwhelmed with their behavior and had to linger behind, standing dumbly in the courtyard, watching the royals exchange pleasantries in their newfound quiet. Couples dressed in feathers and silk breathed sighs of relief, swirled glasses of wine, and gave sweet smiles to their partners.

He leaned on the far wall, watching them carefully as to not be knocked into, and for that minute closed his eyes. He felt somehow relieved and safe, for now, even though he was surrounded by potential enemies and far from home. He remembered these hollow paths well, and he mused gently on their beauty and sustenance, looking back to the days when he wandered them without worry. The King had allowed it, inviting him again and again to visit this place and offer his false worship. Ganondorf glanced about, seeing the calm people, seeing the ease in which the tower stood. He couldn't understand, in that moment, why he had such a contempt for this place. He had torn it down to build another one, a castle that he thought would be greater. And yet, now as he saw this one, the black fortress was put to shame. He had tried to build perfection and failed miserably.

How he would have liked to do it over again and instead of destroying this place, he would keep it whole for his purposes. That would've been better and eternally more pleasant.

But, like all things he adored, it became tainted when he tried to grope for it.

Torches growled with heat and light. Ganondorf heard some distant noise, and upon realizing it was Link's group, he opened his eyes again and reluctantly tried to trace their tracks.

A woman dressed in a blue gown was speaking loudly, scolding the men knowingly and greeting Link with mortification.

"Would you look at yourself?" she wailed. "What do you think you're going to do, looking like that?"

"Leave him alone, woman," the soldiers defended. "He doesn't need to hear from you."

The woman crossly folded her arms, blocking their way. "Her Majesty has been waiting for you, and you're not going to see her dressed like a common bandit. And what's this?"

Ganondorf winced at the appalled shriek.

"What did you do to yourself? You're bleeding! Are you hurt?"

Yelling commenced for a minute until the woman called for a servant. A younger girl in an apron stumbled in at being called.

"Woman, why are bothering him with a servant?" the men asked.

The woman ignored their jeering and took Link by the arm roughly. "Come on, _Hero_... Dear," she addressed the young servant, "Would you lead him to his room and help him with his clothes?"

"He doesn't need to be dressed!" the men howled angrily.

"Be quiet, you oafs," she retaliated, pushing Link along his way. The servant blushed, took Link by the hand, and mumbled something about following her. "You're not even drunk yet and you're obnoxious animals!"

Defeated and blocked off from their source of entertainment, they turned and left. Ganondorf edged against the wall to avoid their trampling, and after a moment's thought, realized that watching Link get dressed did not really fascinate him. Without tracking the boy on his agenda, Ganondorf had to follow something else for a while.

What else _was_ there except thirsty soldiers and bored rich people?

Ganondorf would have sighed if he thought no one would hear him.

Ganondorf ended up following the woman at first, a bit curious of how she was connected to Link. Obviously, she had some influence in the castle and over the men.

The sky blue dress ruffled briskly when she walked and finally she reached the main hallway, pressing a large door open and peering inside. Ganondorf watched, wondering what she was relaying, but quickly realized she was speaking to the Princess.

"Majesty," she hissed.

A voice asked, "Yes?"

"Link's arrived."

There was a distinct noise of motion. "What?"

After a moment of deliberation, the woman pushed the door open fully and slipped inside, closing it behind her. "Oh, yes," she replied as the door clicked. Her voice grew muffled and distant; Ganondorf pressed his ear against the wood in an attempt to listen in. "He just got here. The other soldiers were about to go get him drunk, no doubt."

Zelda laughed lightly. "I'm glad you saved him from that. How was he?"

"He looked awful, Majesty," the woman huffed. "I sent him to his room for a change. He'll be ready in a few minutes, I'm sure." She mumbled unhappily. "I'm not surprised--he's always getting himself into trouble, that boy."

Zelda sounded disappointed but a bit relieved that a change was all that was necessary. "Don't be so hard on him, Jamil," she responded hastily. "He has a lot of responsibilities. I didn't _expect_ him to get here on time."

"Did you expect him to come here in good shape?"

There was another quiet laugh. "Not exactly."

"I don't know what you see in him," Jamil snorted. "Anyway, where's your father? I've been looking for him."

Ganondorf withdrew, hearing only the stifled mumbles but not desiring to hear any more. The woman must be a friend of the Royal family, to so easily ask for the King's presence like that. After a minute, the woman opened the door and swiftly barreled down the corridors. The clatter of the closing door shook the walls.

All Ganondorf could do at this point was wait.

* * *

"Ah, Link! So you've arrived at last!"

The King and the Princess of Hyrule stood immediately as he entered the door, smiling broadly.

"It's so good to see you," the King continued, chortling and stepping up from his throne. "I haven't seen you in such a long time."

"Yes, your Majesty, it has been quite some time," Link agreed. "And it is with good tidings that we meet again."

"Indeed, indeed," the King nodded, touching his shoulder. "Now, did you run into some trouble on your way here? We've been wondering what caused such a strong young lad as yourself to arrive late..."

"I ran into some Wolfos on the way," Link answered truthfully.

"Ah! That would do it!" The King looked to him curiously. "And you got out of it all right?"

"Only barely, your Majesty. I was lucky to get out in one piece."

"Savage creatures, then."

"Yes, your Majesty."

The King nodded in understanding. "Well, I know you have friends to speak with, and I know you'd like to speak with my daughter, so I'll make this quick for you." He cleared his throat, leaning Link in closer, and explained, "This is a very important event for Hyrule and all of her neighbors. I cannot stress enough how large of a role you played in accomplishing this. And for this, I thank you."

Ganondorf was more than perplexed. What on _earth_? There was a war going on, a war Link had fought in, and now the King was speaking nonsense about how Link had led to some accomplishment? Had Link single-handedly defeated the enemy? Or were there two things going on at once?

"Hyrule will have an age of peace not known since the Great War between its races."

"More than just I played a large role in this," Link reminded the King gently, standing up straight once the King released his shoulder.

"Of course! But you did plenty in the diplomatic regard," the King continued. "You were able to build bridges for us that could have not been possible without you. You, after all, know the Gerudos the most intimately of all of us."

_The Gerudos?_

Ganondorf was quivering with questions but was powerless to ask them. Diplomacy? Peace? What on earth were these two politicians babbling about?

After Link spoke with Zelda a while, he excused himself from the castle, obviously in pursuit of meeting with Ganondorf at the inn. Once Ganondorf realized this was the boy's goal, he rushed ahead of the boy's trip to return to the room.

Link later caught up and knocked on the door. Ganondorf, feigning innocence and trying not to sound winded, allowed him inside and asked what Link was doing back.

"I came to ask whether you want some food."

"Of course I do," Ganon responded irritably.

"I can get you some good food and a bath," Link explained. "You don't have a change of clothes, but I guess you'll have to live with that."

Ganondorf glanced over the boy at last, realizing he indeed donned a new outfit and was clean. He couldn't help but stare for a minute, admiring this somewhat boggling image. The boy was dressed in an expensive, silk-woven tunic, with plates of metal at his shoulders. The cloth was riddled with patterns and design, glimmering a rosy brown from head to toe. From this, Link's fair skin and bright, blonde hair were in shocking contrast.

It was the same suit, Ganon realized, that the other soldiers were wearing. Ganondorf swallowed his countless questions, knowing they would give away his stalking, and asked, "_Where's_ all this?"

"Follow me."

Ganondorf found that again, he did not like this city very much. It was no forest--there was no life to watch except for the occasional person bustling past. It was far too empty and vacant for his liking.

Link led him to the castle again, and up to his room. Link had to dismiss a few pleas for conversation on his way upstairs, and once they approached his door, he had to slip inside swiftly to avoid being caught up with more company. Ganondorf entered and found, as he expected, the room to be far better than his own. But instead of dwelling on the silk bed and the chandelier that glimmered overhead, he looked to the food.

"I convinced the chef to send an extra meal up this way," Link explained. "Have fun. There's a bath, too," Link vaguely motioned towards a door in the back of the room, "if you need it."

Link left and Ganondorf immediately began to consume the food. Only once he started stuffing his face with it did he pay any attention to what the food was or even what it looked like. There was a faint memory of the taste of chicken, and he moved onto the potatoes, the spices' smells swimming through his head. He hadn't eaten such cuisine in a long time, and was unused to the freshness of the meat and vegetables, but he overestimated the power of his hunger. Before he knew it, he was staring down at a half-consumed plate without an inclination to continue.

This, he thought, was a bit odd. He hadn't eaten in many hours, and when he began he was ferociously hungry. He normally could have eaten several plates of a portion this size and still complain of hunger. Now, however, he couldn't manage to finish one.

Maybe he was just a little too tired, he thought. Maybe he was ill and didn't feel like eating. He set his utensils down and decided it would be best to have a bath. It may clear his head.

The room was thick with steam, rolling with heat like a sauna. The hot water calmed the nerves in his body, flowing gently over his face and neck and offering a freshness he hadn't experienced in a long time. The more he pondered it, the more he realized how ghastly little he had felt this past decade. He hadn't eaten a good meal or taken a bath, at least in any normal way, for ten years. Gods, he hadn't _lived_.

He undressed at the shivers of cold and buried himself in the hot water. There, he submerged himself in the pleasant warmth and breathed in the fumes simmering above his head. His breaths became deep and clear, the thick fog easing the labor of his lungs. He sat back and mulled silently, exhaustion sending his sight spinning.

Somehow, he felt a bit at home here in the midst of royals, and he thought urgently back to the days he had before spent in the castle's company. The King was a naive man, eager for company and allies, and would invite any slime that managed to make a good impression. However, Ganondorf's memories mulched and traced back to Link all the same. He growled with frustration. The boy wouldn't leave him in peace for long without invading his mind.

Ganondorf never understood the boy or those allied with him. These people who had worked to strike him down were entranced with the most bizarre obsession with justice. Just as Link had fervently apologized for his actions, others Ganondorf knew experienced this illness and craze. Ganondorf puzzled over it, thinking back to Link's expression, unable to connect with that sincerely sorry look. How did these people convince themselves of right and wrong so fully that it controlled them? The sages had torn him down, labeling him the King of Evil, naming his efforts in vain. And yet he could not understand this obsession with good and evil, this completely inane context that made no logical sense.

He would think of the things he did, struggling to see what disgusted them so, and wrestling with the possibility that these acts were criminal and wrong. He could sense nothing in their vibrations, nothing but an emptiness of impulse. He wanted to do those things, and so he responded, just as waves crash against stone, just as flesh falling to the force of gravity. How could things so natural be perverted? Animals devour one another, and they receive no punishment--yet when he satisfies his bloodlust, he is a murderer. He felt sorry for those people who wretched and wept over the evil of this world, for those who racked with guilt, for those who worked tirelessly to do what was right. If only they had his enlightened understanding, they could find his freedom and his prison, his inability to feel guilt or pleasure, and his recognition that these things did not matter. The righteous die as well as the wicked, and all are doomed to meet the same fate. So why did people destroy themselves and waste time feeling sorry? And why did they spend so much of their life plundering riches and pleasures, when it cannot follow them to the grave?

He felt sorry for them in a way, knowing they would never feel the release he did in living for nothing. He spent his days chasing chimeras, merely to keep himself amused, but nothing kept his loyalty as strongly as his desire to live for no cause, to be born and die the same man, to mock the senseless justifications men made for their lives.

Ganondorf tired of sitting so idly and left the bath. It wasn't the ideal to put on his dirty clothes on again, but he had no choice, and so the sweaty clothing remained his. Having finished what he set out to do, he almost decided to leave, but after rethinking this prospect, he realized he was not excited about returning to the empty room with a simple bed. He gazed longingly at the bed Link was to rest in, immediately recognizing its superiority.

Surely Link wouldn't mind if he rested his eyes a bit.

Ganondorf lay flat on his back, sinking deep into the flush of down and silk, and immediately his vision became hazy. The bed was comfortable--more comfortable than he had ever imagined, and he dared not open his eyes lest it be proven a dream.

His comfort was cut short.

The door opened, Link entered, and before long the boy realized he was still there, and that he was sleeping in his bed.

"What are you still doing here? Get out!"

So much for hospitality.

* * *

Ganondorf returned to his room, but it was not all in vain. Before he left Link's room, he had managed to swipe a pipe he had eyed earlier, along with some tobacco. He reasoned that the boy didn't need it as desperately as he did, for after all, he _was_ older.

But to his shock and disgust, the smoking did not work. He swung open the window to let the stench dissipate outside and made a single puff of smoke before he realized his mistake. The fire sprawled through his lungs, suffocating him, burning him, and with a furious fit of coughing the pipe fell to the floor. Tears from the stinging flame and bitter taste of the tobacco formed at his eyes, the smoke swirling and irritating him.

Ganondorf growled impatiently. What had gotten into his body? Not only had it lost its appetite--now it had also lost its ability to smoke.

Ganondorf sighed, still wheezing a bit from the attempt, and decided that the tobacco was probably bad anyhow. He didn't know how old it was, and it may had aged too much for his taste. He picked up the pipe, balancing the singed herb in place and setting the item aside. He would buy his own tobacco later.

A faint wind brushed past his shoulders, the chilliness of the breeze forcing him to turn. He nearly turned around for the sake of closing the window and barring this cold, but once he faced the windowsill, he stopped short.

It was undeniable this time. The same crow was perched there, only a few feet from him, its eyes sparkling and staring right into his. He froze, no longer comforted by this charcoal-colored critter, and nearly shooed it away.

But the creature opened its beak, cawing furiously, the noise somehow sounding simultaneously more and less human. Ganondorf was startled by its aggressiveness, and almost found himself speaking to it, but before he could scold it, it took the initiative.

_Hello_.

Its feathers briskly ruffled. Ganondorf blinked. "What?"

The bird's beak still opened, it still cawed, but over its ruckus came a voice of shocking clarity, vibrating through his skull intensely. He could not decide whether it was male or female, human or sub-human, or even if it spoke in English. All he could tell was it spoke to him, and he could understand it.

_Hello, dearest_.

Ganondorf's heart pounded. Was this some sort of trick? "What are you?"

_Whatever do you mean?_

The crow fell silent, its beak closing, and Ganondorf felt a headache coming on. He could swear it was smiling at him. "What do you want?"

_You feel very safe at the enemy's breast._

Ganondorf looked at it again, still wondering if he was hallucinating or hearing things. It was talking about Link, he realized. "...So?"

_You have grown accustomed to being his pet too quickly._

Ganondorf was typically honest with himself, and he knew his increasing comfort with being Link's property carried its hypocrisy. But no matter the disgust he had with himself in this matter, he was not willing to face such a foul statement. "I am not his pet!"

_You trust him. You believe he will not destroy you. But you do not know him._

"Shut up!" Ganondorf lunged for it, but the wings flapped too quickly for him, and as he crashed down on the windowsill, the ebony shadow had vanished with a protesting bark.

_You will regret trusting him so easily, dearest. I promise you._

Ganondorf cursed countless times, convincing himself this was some horrible dream, and that a crow had not just conversed with him. He panted miserably, but now that the eerily realistic vision had passed, he calmed himself.

He wondered if what he conversed with was merely his insecurities, but somehow this seemed silly. Not only was the prospect a bit cheesy, but the thing did not have his voice or intent, and it said things that made no sense to him at all. Why did it promise he would regret trusting the boy?

Whatever the being was, it knew something he didn't, and it induced shivers up his spine as he pondered its existence. He prayed it was the only and last visit, but he knew in his heart the thing would return.

Without hope and shaken, he closed the window roughly and retreated to his bed. He spent the night staring at the ceiling and watching the hours pass by him, every thought tracing back to the single look of hatred he had read from the boy's eyes. He could see Link lingering like a shadow, lurking, trembling with ancient hungers, and when he closed his eyes it became worse: not only could he see the boy then, at the back of the eyelids, but he could hear the boy's breathing impending on him and threatening him. The thought streaked across his mind so clearly that it was like a written phrase floating in front of his eyes: Link was going to kill him.

And he could do nothing to protect himself.

Ganondorf shivered and finally fainted from terror.

* * *

(Author's notes: If you'd excuse me, I feel compelled to complete this chapter with some personal reflections thus far and some personal reactions to how this story is developing.

I'm glad you all like this story so far, and at the completion of this story's third chapter, I'm sure this seems a little slow and I've only dropped one or two hints as to where this story is going. In fact, it'll pick up in a few chapters, and the last scene is really a nod at the main plot.

That aside, I want to explain what I'm doing to Ganondorf. A few years ago, I was a "Ganondorf" fan--that is, I "loved" him. I went through that lame sort of adolescent stage where one "loves" evil characters in the sense that you would be happy to be pals or even lovers of theirs. In my drawings and stories I alluded that he was attractive and desirable, and even forgivable. Now, I have a very different "love" of this character: I no longer have any affections for him as a person; I only have a fascination with his depth. When I witnessed the last scene of Wind Waker, I also witnessed a completely new layer of this person. The first hints of victimization were dropped, but also there were hints of jealousy and an unnatural vulnerability to emotions and the effects of nature.

As he says 'the wind is blowing' after you deal the last blow, I can't help but wonder why he felt compelled to notice this. What does wind have to do with his the situation? Who _cares_ if the wind is blowing or not? As he explained his actions against Hyrule, he talks about the winds that passed over both his land and Hyrule. He doesn't talk about money, power, or any personal contempt towards the people he destroyed--he doesn't even mention them. Just the wind. Somehow, he feels as though nature compels him to act, that it tempts him and taunts him unfairly. If it just weren't for that wind, he explained, I would have never done any of this.

As one of you said, seeing Ganondorf's point of view is quote-on-quote "interesting." I did this on purpose, obviously. I recently read a French short story called "The Stranger," and the main character acted the same way. Ganondorf drifts through everything, surrounded by his past sins and shrugging it off. He's "out of it," and is almost robotically controlled by his environment. He's not admirable in any way, and despite what he desires, he comes off as sort of pathetic. Everything he thinks concentrates on the natural world, and all the while his human relationships rot. If watching birds and looking at clouds means he has to slaughter some people, it doesn't matter. Order is everything to him.

A lot of people would depict him as a really active villain, i.e., someone who rampages for sheer sadism and does the infamous "maniacal laughter" bit. All clichés aside, I don't see this as a part of his character. He doesn't like doing evil things--he just doesn't care either way. Even if he wasn't debilitated by Din's rules as he is in this story, he's not crazy, and he's not the type who finds evil particularly exciting. For all he cares, evil doesn't exist. As in this chapter, he's confused by what makes people consider this wrong and that right. He doesn't think it matters. He doesn't see anything wrong with being greedy, because getting what he wants is all that really makes a difference to him. In this way, he only tramples people when he sees them as obstacles to self-gratification. Killing random people would be wasted energy.

For now, Ganon is sort of the acting main character, and he pretty much will stay that way. Link will grow in his importance, but never to the point where there is much being revealed through his point of view. Ganondorf has been playing the "loser" role, in which nothing he does turns out quite right. Link, on the other hand, is going to become more of a puzzle. As you've already seen being hinted, he has a bit of a dormant temper, which is going to show up consistently. He's driven by reputation and personal feelings, which as it will turn out are more in conflict than usually assumed. Be forewarned: what he says is not _always_ what he is thinking. I like to challenge a person's image with their actions, so Link will be far from perfect in this story.

And now I will shut up.)


	4. cripple

**Chapter 4: cripple**

Well, FINALLY. I apologize for the wait, but I've been _very_ busy lately, plus this chapter proved rather agonizing. Oh well. It was an "it has to be written" sort of chapter, and sometimes they're no fun to write.

Anyway: read on! Things are going to pick up quite a bit after this chapter, so don't get _too_ lost. (Haha_, right_.)

* * *

"Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry." **Henry Ward Beecher**

Ganondorf woke up with a fresh circulation of breaths. The possibility of Link killing him faded, and the premise grew more ridiculous as the day matured. Of course Link was not going to kill him. Link was no murderer, and no force Ganondorf could conceive would make him such.

The morning was dry, offering no moisture for his hoarse throat. And so, with nothing else to do, he left in search for a drink.

Being unable to reveal himself resulted in barriers to this goal. He could not hope to purchase or ask for a drink (even if he had any money), and he wasn't sure stealing was his best option. In the end, he realized his only real hope of getting nourishment was to return to the castle. Boredom, too, had taken its toll, and so any form of entertainment beyond the bustle of the village was welcome.

The day was clear, thankfully, and the sunlight was pouring forth with an unbridled passion for the world beneath it. There was not a cloud in the sky save for a few weary puffs of white, and the city at last stirred to life. The awakening was painful at first, but as the hours past, the townsfolk breathed and moved, and without warning the square swarmed with people. This gave Ganondorf new obstacles to dodge, and he had to be especially careful of the erratic play of children, who would tear past quicker than he could blink. He seriously considered flying, but his mind rattled at the memory of his last, failed flight. He did not want to repeat the accident, and he certainly did not want to in front of all of these people.

Once he crossed this obstacle course safely, it was just a matter of getting in the castle.

This was more complicated than he remembered. Maybe the headache was getting to him.

* * *

"Link!" 

Link was again captivated with the blankness of the landscape, staring at a wall senselessly and separating himself from the crowd. How staring into nothing was interesting, Ganondorf was not sure. Jamil, for his sake, raced to Link's side to put an end to his empty staring.

"Link, come on! What are you just standing about?" He was tugged by the arm, but he still seemed enamored with the darkness he peered into. "Zelda is waiting for you upstairs."

Link, at last convinced of the leave's importance, allowed himself to be pried away from the wall.

Ganondorf, for a moment, looked at that very wall, curiously examining it, wondering what Link found so fascinating about it. It was then that Ganondorf remembered Link couldn't see it at all.

"Link!" Zelda exclaimed upon seeing him. They exchanged pleasantries, and Ganondorf meanwhile observed the Princess's mode of dress. She glittered of jewels, the fires surrounding her giving her dress and eyes a blinding shimmer of pink and blue. Every nuance of her shape and voice was brutally gorgeous, and without warning she embraced him, laughing. "I spoke with you hardly at all last night."

"His military friends couldn't get enough of him," Jamil dryly explained.

"They had reason for it," Link assured her.

"They need to learn to share," Jamil retaliated, speaking of him as though he were an object.

From there, the conversation turned to names and places, and they were engaged in countless topics, all of which Ganondorf was unable to register. There were so many names he had never heard of that his head began to spin. His mind began to pale and shut down. This was going to be another excruciatingly long day. Ganondorf shifted his weight, suddenly awakening to the throbbing ache in his legs. He had walked too long these past few days, and after a good night's sleep, his muscles started to complain.

Miserably, he tried to pay attention to the drivel that these two women discussed with Link, but every attempt failed, and he finally withdrew. His head was numb with disinterest and impatience. When was something going to _happen_?

_You seem a bit bored, dearest._

Ganondorf snapped awake and froze. _Oh gods,_ he thought, _now I'm hearing voices._

_One voice, dearest. Only one._

Ganondorf was perplexed but as he allowed himself to think, he realized he was holding a conversation in his head with the very voice that conversed with him last night. Apparently, the crow had found it fit to lodge its voice into his head, where it could torment him further. How irritating. _It was only a matter of time,_ Ganondorf mentally moaned.

_Until what?_

_Until I lost my **mind**._ Ganondorf paused. _And I'm telling this to a voice in my head. Now I'm **really** crazy._

_You're not insane,_ the voice assured. _Not quite yet._

Ganondorf overlooked this bizarre conversation for a moment and looked over to Link's. The three were still talking up a storm. _If I'm not crazy, prove your not just something I'm imagining._

_Oh, that's simple,_ the voice replied. _Because I know plenty of things you don't._

Now Ganondorf was interested. _Tell me about that girl,_ Ganondorf nodded towards Jamil.

_That thing? _The voice hissed. _Are you **trying** to bore me?_

The group began to move. Without any choice, Ganondorf pursued, and challenged the voice again. _I don't know anything about her; tell me something._

The voice sighed. _The girl, Jamil... Accursed pest. Used to have a crush on your master--_

_Master? _Ganondorf scoffed, realizing it was referring to Link. _He's not--_

_He **will** be. _The voice, sounding a bit irked at being interrupted with what it regarded to be a silly defense, tried to continue. _Anyway, that thing manages all the interior orders of the castle. She's blood-related to the family all the same: she probably just sticks around to be annoying..._

_This all sounds like something I would make up at the top of my head._

_Don't be ridiculous! _the voice snorted. _You're a terrible liar; you couldn't hope to make up something **half** that good of the top of that rock you call your **head**._

Ganondorf noticed Jamil separate from the group once they reached the hallway, leaving Link and Zelda alone.

_Oh, just to let you know, dearest, _the voice noted quickly, _she's going to try to kiss him. In case you can't **bear** looking at such things._

'Try'? _This is getting a bit weird,_ Ganondorf confessed.

_Then don't listen to me._

For a while, the voice withdrew and went silent. Slightly relieved, Ganondorf turned his attention back to the couple. Instead of kissing, as the voice had suggested, they moved down the corridor. Zelda explained that there were more royals to speak with there, and they were all 'excited' to see him. He followed a bit longer, watching more royals slips past, hearing more inane blather--

_I give up_.

_Already, dearest?_ The voice sneered. _You aren't easily entertained, are you? This all brings back incredibly dull memories._

_I can't believe he thought I would stay in my room._

_Yes, how foolish of the boy,_ the voice agreed dryly.

Link was shaking hands with a military general and a nearby group clapped wine glasses with a crystalline, ringing outcry. After another five minutes of this conversation, Link and Zelda broke off into yet another direction, heading for a smaller gathering. Ganondorf swore mentally at their inability to stay put. His legs hurt enough.

_Ah! Here we are,_ the voice jeered.

Ganondorf nearly asked the voice in his head what it was rambling on about, but as he watched the two march up a fleet of stairs, he realized what it meant. Zelda was speaking low, in nothing but quick, hushed intervals, and Link was fighting zealously not to pay any attention. It would have been the perfect romantic display, but Link grew immediately discontent. He brushed off any attempt to slow down and almost frantically grazed past her attempt to kiss him.

_What did I tell you?_ the voice whispered. _She tried._

The Princess came off more confused than hurt, and when she tried to reason with him, Link played innocent. Unable to convict the blind man of any misdoing, Zelda reluctantly released him from her desires.

Ganondorf was at a loss to explain this to himself.

The room the two moved into burned with velvet reds, the curtains and carpets colored with deep crimsons and gold. There were tables serving foods of mouth-watering quality, exchanges of drinks, pleasant laughter, wine, everything Ganondorf thought he had left behind decades ago. He slipped through the door before Zelda could turn to close it, and edged himself into the shadows behind a wooden display in the corner of the room. It was a frustratingly small room, and the space he tried to place himself into was particularly tight, but he felt at ease, and from that corner he could stare out a nearby window. Not that he could manage to see too much except for the flowers that bloomed a story below.

"Jamil, you've been drinking already," Zelda suddenly protested. Ganondorf's attention span momentarily snapped back into place.

Jamil had downed a glass of red wine and snorted. "So?"

"Just... Don't make a scene, will you?"

"I promise you, Princess, my drunken stupor will be quite adequate," Jamil nodded, motioning to a servant for another glass. Once the second glass was poured, she swirled it with a sniff, hissing, "Link, there's some odd man wanting to speak with you. I'm just warning you. I don't know where he's from, but he's awfully--"

"Ah!" The noise of discovery came from across the room, exerted enthusiastically before Jamil could completely express her worries. "_Hero of Time_, is it?"

Attentions turned to the man who so abruptly interrupted the girl. A couple rushed over to Link's side, and as they stared, they noticed the source of Jamil's disconcerting words. Wordlessly, the group wondered what country this man could possibly have come from.

He stood tall, even compared to the disturbingly exotic woman following him, and had the expression of a piqued lizard, with the eyes and skin tone to match. He smiled, but it was anything but comforting, his sickly form making him seem prepared for fainting at any moment. They examined him but couldn't imagine him as a leader of anything other than a band of rogues--his clothing, too, was a bit unfit for the occasion. He smelled like horses, and before they could recoil, he offered a gloved hand to the Hero.

"I've heard so much about you," he spoke breathlessly. Without an image to aid in prejudice, Link was not as unwilling as the others to stand near this man, and uneasily held out his own hand.

"I... Suppose so," Link meekly murmured. The man shook his hand, leaving fresh dirt on Link's palm. Link brushed it away as subtly as he could.

"You fought in the war, didn't you?" the man suddenly interjected.

Link wasn't surprised that the man knew of this, and nodded slowly. "I did."

Zelda attempted to intervene. "Sir," she asked, "would you be so kind as to introduce yourself--?"

The man didn't even blink, still staring right down into the boy. "How's the war going, Hero?"

"...I hear it's going well," Link replied carefully.

"Sir," Zelda pleaded.

"How long did you serve?"

"_Sir,_ what is your name?"

Zelda was getting vexed, and so thankfully, the woman stepped up and nudged her partner sharply. "You're so rude," she berated him.

The group collectively faked smiles, a tremor of nervous laughter floating tenuously over their heads. Ganondorf recognized this familiar scene from some unfortunate experience of his own. He decided to avoid reminiscence.

The woman cleared her throat, recovering from her brief growl, smiling comfortably as she slipped in front of him. With a wave of her hand, her partner, though a bit flummoxed, turned and left. They hoped she would be better company, but her expression was distinctly oily and her voice was no better.

"Never mind my husband," she hissed dismissively, speaking of him boldly once he trailed off. "He's very interested in you."

Link nodded bleakly, understanding this. Jamil made a grimace, the alcohol beginning to affect her, and took another swig of her wine.

"He has read all of the legends. He is fascinated by it all, particularly _That Man_--" She would have continued to rambled if Zelda had not interrupted her.

"--Where _are_ you from?"

The woman stopped short and her face went blank, as though struck dumb, her eyebrows furrowing, distress wrinkling her expression. "We are from..." There was a skip in her breath. "Allanis."

"I've never heard of such a country," Zelda exclaimed, now a tone of disbelief overcoming her. "Where is it?"

The woman gave her a dumb look, ignored her, and skipped around the subject, leaving Zelda abandoned and insulted. "As I was saying," she reintroduced, "My _husband_. Fascinated by 'That Man,' he is."

It took Ganondorf a moment to realize that the woman was referring to him.

"I always thought it was awfully morbid of him to study such a topic, but he insisted. Hero," she turned to Link eagerly, "You faced Ganondorf, didn't you?"

His name clearly carried some emotional baggage; the very mention of his title induced a collective wince. Only Link seemed less perturbed by the word. "I did."

"Quite ferocious isn't he?" It was obviously a rhetorical question, for the woman allowed not a second for him to answer. "He killed many people, you know. Women... Children..."

Link's posture nearly slipped. There was a compulsive tremor beneath the surface, a buried and flaring temper attempting to unearth. But Link did no more than subtly distort his mouth in his struggle to restrain himself. "Yes," he coughed out forcefully, sounding ready to end the conversation.

"All in cold blood," she added, with a dismal sense of awe and disgust.

"_Yes_," he replied again, this time irritably, wasting no time in implying he didn't want to talk about it.

Ganondorf was struck with the oddest sensation, an increasing discomfort with Link's behavior that he could not explain. As Link grew angrier at being reminded of such things, the more Ganondorf was tempted to disclaim those actions. Those crimes stopped being irrelevant, and suddenly he wished the woman would stop--he couldn't stand those horrible looks, those glimmers in the boy's eyes.

"There was a village a bit far out, beyond the mountains," she began to explain, "and it had nothing but peaceful folk--save for a man or two who didn't hold back their tongues."

There was a heavy swig of alcohol. Jamil gave a disapproving gaze at the woman, watching her morbid excitement in describing the event.

"He killed every last one of them."

Jamil choked. Ganondorf tried to force himself to swallow, but upon seeing Link's expression, his throat went dry. He nearly convinced himself to immediately tell the boy it was all a horrible mistake, but as Ganondorf puzzled over his desperation, he realized he was not thinking straight. He painfully squirmed at the crestfallen, horrified faces, but none disturbed him as much as Link's. He wanted to lie, remembering that accursed village full of useless people, and tell Link he had not done such a thing.

_Feeling guilty?_

Ganondorf responded swiftly and easily. _No._

_Then why are you so flustered?_

_He didn't need to know I had done that._

_Would you have not done it,_ the voice droned quietly and curiously, _just so that he may not have heard it?_

Ganondorf could not answer this riddle and so he refrained from replying.

"Whatever!" Jamil blurted irritably with a scowl. "What does all this nonsense have to do with anything?"

Everyone gaped at her in shock and watched her tip on her side, appearing woozy.

"Jamil, you're drunk," Zelda sighed crossly.

"And proud of it."

Zelda tried her best to regain her composure, clearing her throat and turning her attention back to their strange guest. "That's... Very interesting," Zelda meagerly offered, though by her expression they could tell she was lying through her teeth.

The woman did not seem offended at all--in fact, she looked quite pleased with herself, especially in receiving the reaction she did from Link. She made a disquieting grin, but fortunately, another group closed in, and their situation was dispersed.

Joyous incantations erupted from more mouths, and several foreign leaders swarmed the area, all speaking in incomprehensible accents at once. "Hero!" a tall man with dark flesh and eyes chirped cheerily, "I've been looking for you!"

And so yet again, Link was momentarily lost in the flutter of worship, and he had to paste a polite smile on his face as he was barraged with questions from every side. He responded best he could, but he could not escape looking lost and overwhelmed by the attention. He could have well gone mad if a suggestion hadn't saved him from being crowded.

"Now, Link," the dark man curiously spoke, waving dark velvet robes in every move he made, "I keep hearing that you play the piano and yet I've never seen you do it."

Link balked humbly. "Not _so_ well..."

"Oh, come now! There's a piano right over there--" The man motioned to an ivory grand piano in the far corner of the room. "You could at least try. It would pass the time."

"No, no..."

The oily woman sniffed. "Don't be silly," she spoke up sharply, eyeing Link smugly. "You know that he can't do that in his _condition_."

"Oh," the dark man stammered suddenly, realizing his embarrassing mistake. They all turned to Link in a feverish tremor of sympathy and apologetic murmurs. "Oh, oh dear--I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten--"

That did it. Link stood for only several seconds, enduring this humiliation, before he sputtered with the most restraint he could gather, "I can do it."

Zelda blinked and looked at him in surprise. "Link?"

Link was flustered now, haughty and insulted. Link could accept the fact that he was blind, but he was in no position to accept pity, nor was he ready to say there was _anything_ he couldn't do because of this disability. "I'm fine, I can just feel my way, it's not that hard," he strenuously explained, frantically trying to escape this circle of people. The group shifted uncomfortably at his justifications, but Jamil interrupted.

"The man says he can do it; for pity's sake, let him!" She took Link's arm from Zelda's grip and shoved him in the grand piano's direction. The group, at last recovering from their shock, shuffled along with him and led him the rest of the way, all the while engaging in wild conversations. Jamil settled right back in the same position as before, standing idly with her alcohol, and the oily woman sidled in front of her.

The two women exchanged glares, though the stranger seemed far more amused by the situation than Jamil did.

Ganondorf leaned on the wood beside him, feeling jaded. He could feel the licks of overwhelming exhaustion Link must have faced. These people were suffocating, troublesome, and Ganondorf wished they would simply leave the boy alone. He took in a slow, silent breath, the soreness of his body growing with every passing moment. It was an agonizing yet necessary fate if he wanted to reduce any risks of being discovered. No one could see him, but if he made any disturbances or managed to be touched, he would likely be caught.

"Caught"? Right. And what exactly would they _do_ then?

Link was trying to feel the keys at his fingers, tapping notes and conversing simultaneously with the others as they crowded him at the piano's side. He pondered aloud which song to play, if he remembered any, and he dabbled with the clear sounds ringing from the instrument's hollow skeleton.

"I haven't played in a while," he excused himself, attempting a few scales. The others, for his sake, were still speaking vibrantly, talking over his practice and not intimidating him with attentive silence. Suggestions were tossed, and Link played along carefully, producing a few timid tunes.

The songs were hesitant, clunky and restrained, but somehow in Link's meek expression of skill, the notes he played managed to enchant. Though the royals around him paid little heed to the simple, rhythmic hum of his efforts, the tentative compositions still shook them with disquieted allure. If one ignored the occasional fumbles, if one moved steadily in motion with the emerging sway and consistency of the notes, it was truly charming, in its own imperfect way.

If Ganondorf had a soul, the only evidence of its existence was his crazed adoration of music, and it was only when he heard that music that he remembered what it sounded like. He hadn't heard any in years, not even a hum or scale, nothing but the flat sounds of birds and crickets. Immediately upon hearing the piano, he woke up and was absorbed with fascination and hunger, succumbing to his longing by shutting off every other sense his body demanded. All he wanted to do was _listen_--even though the music was unsteady and amateur, as Link had told the truth and really wasn't very skilled--and take in every sound and pattern. He hadn't heard music in a long time and was ready to accept anything, even a the work of a hack who had probably only taken lessons a few times.

Ganondorf shut his eyes, his mouth, his awareness of the world around him, and drank it greedily.

_Hgghn._

Ganondorf snapped angrily, flustered at the voice's disruption. _Be quiet._

He tried again, but the voice was breathing on him now, grunting, making unpleasant noises, and he could feel it smile at the back of his head. _Do you like it?_

_I'm trying to listen,_ Ganondorf told it impatiently.

_Not the music; do you like **him**?_

_What?_

_

* * *

_

Jamil burst into a temper at the strange woman, dismissing her as a mad woman. "What is wrong with you? Why do you obsess over that old tyrant? He isn't around anymore; why bother fussing over him?"

* * *

_I mean it,_ the voice hissed. _He is quite handsome--don't you wonder what he'd be like--_

_Good **goddesses**,_ Ganondorf gagged, suddenly feeling sick. He needed a drink, fast, before this devil could slip in a complementary mental image. It was the one thing on the face of the earth he didn't dare try to picture.

* * *

"You're so morbid," Jamil roared in a drunken rampage, turning towards the window near him, splashing her wine, her eyes cascading around the room. 

All Ganondorf could hear was a scream and the sickening giggle of a being that he now knew for certain did _not _originate from any corner of his consciousness.

To his alarm, Jamil was staring right at him, pointing at him, shrieking at the top of her lungs, which in her state sounded like the bellow of a cow. She emitted an ensemble of cursing and exclamations, and Ganondorf was dizzy with panic. For an entire, horrible moment, she could see him perfectly and howled bloody murder at the sight of him.

Then he gained control of his magic and was gone again. Without wasting a moment, he shuffled away from the corner and sped for the door.

"What on earth is the matter, Jamil?" Zelda inquired rather crossly.

Jamil stammered in terror. "It was him! It was him! He was standing right there!"

"_Who_, dear?"

The music, by this time, had ceased, and Link was already close by, listening in carefully. Ganondorf knew he had been caught, but it was lucky that his only witness was a heavily drinking friend of the Royal Family.

"It was Him! Oh, we were just talking about Him, and then--"

"You mean Lord Ganondorf?" Zelda clarified skeptically.

The dark foreign leader peered in the direction where she had experienced this. "There's nothing there."

"He was right there, staring at me, and then--and then he just disappeared like nothing at all!"

Link made a disquieting look, his nightmarish eyes giving away his understanding of what had just happened. Though he was trying hard not to tip off anyone else, he did not look very happy. Ganondorf looked longingly to the closed door, but the last thing he wanted to do was open the door and throw them all into a fit upon seeing a door open by itself. He was trapped, forced to watch their fear and confusion unfold, and watch Link's simultaneously upset look.

"Calm down," the others crooned, "you're just seeing things."

Jamil, panicking and tearing up from shock, handed Zelda her wine, murmuring weakly, "I swear, I'll never drink again."

"That's just your headache talking," Link joked forcefully, his smile coming off as fake. "Let's go outside and take a breather."

And so, Link managed to convince the group to leave the room before him, and on the way out the Hylian purposely paused and held the doorway open and free. Ganondorf miserably accepted the opportunity and slipped past. He could hear a low, profane threat chase him, and Ganondorf recalled what Link had told him before.

"If I hurt you, you cannot hurt me in return."

The voice in his head garbled with excitement. _The Hylian boy is going to kill you._

_Shut up._

_

* * *

_  
Ganondorf wasn't sure which path to take in this matter and cursed whatever he thought was responsible. He didn't understand why his magic had so irresponsibly fluctuated as of late. The spell had worked fine for the past few days, but the moment that girl set her eyes upon him, it failed for several seconds, long enough for a clear and dangerous gaze. He was lucky to have gained control before any others could catch sight of him.

And then, of course, Ganondorf's thoughts inevitably turned to the newly birthed voice in his head.

_So you're going to blame **me**?_

Ganondorf didn't dignify its question with an answer.

_Well?_

Ganondorf stifled some foreign swearing as he shuffled aimlessly down the streets of the town. He wandered, knowing that he could return to the inn but deciding against it. That would be the first place Link would try to find him, and Ganondorf, at the very least, wanted some calm before being yelled at. Ganondorf was not fond of criticism of any sort, for he didn't like to be reminded of his mistakes, and nor did he like the time it consumed. Perhaps, if one wanted to assume a gentler vision of his blackened heart, he could be called sensitive to such admonishments.

Ganondorf would probably not support this wording.

_Maybe,_ he thought to himself grimly, _I could just stay this way, stick around, but never say anything to him. I could just follow him. He can't see me, after all. That way, I don't have to deal with him, but I can keep track of where he is going._

He thought over this idea and uneasily accepted it. He looked out into the cobblestone road in front of him, seeing the arches of stone and dribbles of clear water. Birds flocked and chirped noisily, disturbing the quiet of the vendors who set up shop for the approaching afternoon.

_You're** frightened** of him?_ the voice queried quietly. _That **is** a puzzle._

_I'm not afraid of him._

_Then why do you run like a coward?_

Ganondorf was getting tired of the thing stabbing at him, so he could only weakly retaliate, _I'm not running._

_Then go back._

_**Fine. **I will._

Ganondorf regretted his agreement the moment he made it, knowing he had only said it to shut the voice up, and that he did not want to go to the inn. He figured the longer he avoided it, the better. However, in his intolerance of being marked a coward, he had miserably trapped himself between his words and intentions.

The voice, smugly, waited for his next action.

_If you hadn't distracted me, none of this would have happened,_ Ganondorf bitterly mused as he turned around and forced himself onward, back to his room.

* * *

Ganondorf had reached his room easily, slipped inside, and without much else to do, had to wait for Link to find him. As he rested, feeling the ache of his feet and relieved to be able to lay down on his bed, he thought back to similar feelings he had before. The tension was left unsaid, but he was aware of it--he had only known the boy for a day or two, so he had no idea what sort of response this would bring about. He had always imagined Link was the sort of all-forgiving type, but he wasn't so sure now. Link did not like him, that much was obvious, so it was likely that Link was not going to extend his mercy quite so gracefully in his direction. 

Ganondorf lazily fingered the cloth sheets underneath him, nearly dozing off. The voice wasn't about to let him.

_What do you think he's going to do?_

_Throw a fit,_ Ganondorf replied dishonestly. _Like a woman._

He stared at the far wall and without reason spoke aloud. "Crows are talking to me; there's a voice in my head (who I'm conversing with); and now I'm waiting around for the boy to yell at me. I must be losing my mind."

_And you're talking to no one._

"That, too, yes." Ganondorf shut his eyes, emitted a fatigued groan, a pulsing headache hitting him. "Go away."

_All you had to do was ask_, the voice replied simply, and to his shock, disappeared. The voice lifted like a weight off of his shoulders, and he nearly protested the suddenness of it. Before he knew it, he was without any company and all the more suffocating with boredom. At least his headache was getting better. He stuffed his face into the bed and tried to sleep.

It was not long afterwards that Link arrived, knocking on his door and straining his voice. Link was trying not to let the others in the building overhear his temper, and so he knocked and seethed, "_Open the door, Gerudo._"

Ganondorf decided not to make him wait too long, though he certainly didn't rush. Ganondorf unlocked the door and nearly went for the knob, but Link beat him to it. The door swung open wildly, narrowly missing Ganon's face as it swerved and struck the wall with a loud clatter. The foundation of the building shook; Ganondorf yawned at Link's infuriated expression. He was still groggy and had lost interest in what Link was going to do to him.

"How nice of you to come," Ganondorf welcomed him irately. Link just ogled him angrily.

"What _happened_?" Link hissed, shutting the door behind him. Ganondorf scuttled backwards slightly, but not out of fright. This was in fact becoming amusing.

"What do you mean?" he teased.

"Back _there_!" Link roared, forgetting his attempts to stay quiet. "Jamil saw you!"

Ganondorf again yawned. "My magic failed for a second there. It's not a problem; no one else saw it."

"That's not the_ point_!" Link vexed. He stepped forward. Ganondorf stepped back. "What were you even doing in there? It's too dangerous for you to be walking around there--you know that!"

He did? Ganondorf sighed and stared at the wall behind the boy.

"I told you to stay here and you said you would!"

"You honestly thought I was going to stay here all day?" Ganondorf snorted and raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing to do."

"That's not my concern!" Link pointed out. "If you don't _want_ to cooperate, at least _tell _me. Pretending to cooperate is _not_ productive here!" Link was trembling now, red in the face, sputtering at being so boldly lied to.

"And what then?" Ganondorf challenged, beginning to grow upset himself. "It wasn't as though you were going to _let_ me do anything--"

"Don't say that--I could have very well considered it. All you had to do was ask."

Now Ganondorf, at hearing this phrase for the second time, lost his temper and began to complain sourly. "Why do I have to _ask_ for things?"

"Because you don't have privileges anymore," Link explained somewhat calmly, his voice lowered and his quivering slowing to a halt. "Okay? You _don't_. I don't think you quite understand this yet, but you're _not_ in power here. And that's what happens when someone is above you, Gerudo. You have to _ask permission_."

"You're not above me," Ganondorf snarled.

"Then that's obviously the core of the problem here," Link murmured, his countenance slumping a bit as his anger faded.

"The fact that you're not above me?" Ganondorf attempted to clarify, suddenly overcome with confusion.

"The fact that you don't _accept_ I'm above you," Link contradicted softly.

Ganondorf and Link found themselves in a very odd situation just then. As they attempted to comprehend the gravity of this exchange, their thoughts gave way to the absurdity of everything they said. Ganondorf, King of Evil, Emperor of the Desert, for the first time in his life was stricken at the mercy of a superior. Link, as well, was dazzled by the possibility of controlling the Gerudo. Ganondorf stared at the boy with the most hatred he could summon, but was paralyzed with the realization that he could do nothing. The world was quivering at his shudders of disgust and repulsion, but there was no force he could wield that could reverse the circumstance. Link stood, looking smug, complacent with this paralysis.

If only he could _rip_ that look from the boy's face, he would feel better.

He didn't _need_ permission to do anything! He was older, stronger, and probably smarter than Link--the last thing he should be required to do is request Link's blessings. It made no sense. Ganondorf frantically searched the room for distractions from this injustice, but could find nothing but wooden beams, the hide of dead trees standing still and offering no opportunity for his starving imagination.

"I think I know what can clarify this for you," Link spoke, bitterness tainting his voice. Ganondorf understood the comment didn't mean anything good.

"Is that a _threat_?" Ganondorf stabbed, ignoring the obviousness of his question. Of course it was a threat. Link didn't respond, at least not verbally, and instead moved erratically, flicking some fingers.

Ganondorf was at first confused with the movement. However, his confusion lost relevancy as he awoke to a fiery and sharp jab of pain in his stomach. He sputtered from shock, clawing at the affected muscles that now wretched from agonizing tension, but found nothing there. After a moment, the twisting and grinding of his senses ceased and the pain faded into numbness.

Ganondorf fumbled from surprise at the immediate stab, but nearly panicked when he could not identify its source. There was no injury or wound--only a passing, painful crunch of innards. He looked back to Link, marked with dismay and rage, swearing at him, demanding an explanation for this trick.

Link merely opened his hand, let his fingers dance, and a mild yet sharp wave of pain hit the Gerudo once more. Every stir struck the most tender of his nerves, sending Ganondorf into a fit of anger.

"_What are you_--?"

Link frowned but couldn't completely conceal the smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. "It works. How grand."

Ganondorf had to stop himself from striking the boy upside the head, and instead, he reacted to his desperation by accordingly spitting in Link's face. The boy was apparently not expecting this, and so he froze in alarm and the painful strokes stopped at least momentarily. Now looking a bit flustered, Link tried to wipe the foul saliva from his forehead, blinking away the specks that had flown into his eyes.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Ganondorf roared, panting with relief.

Link grimaced as he cleaned himself. "Disciplinary action."

"_Excuse_ me? Do you know how much _older_ I am than you?"

"Do you know how much more painful that spell can be?" Link dismissed mildly, starting to relax again. "It's very flexible magic; that was just a tickle. A wonderful spell, really--I'm glad it works--"

"Are you _insane_?"

Link batted an eyelid plaintively. "No. But if this is what I have to do to make you listen to me, then I'm happy to do so."

Ganondorf did not learn well through pain, and so he snarled icily, "You can go to hell."

Link didn't miss a beat. Ganondorf considered what he had just experienced to be painful--the wave that hit him then was infinitely worse. Overwhelmed with the clamor of nerves, he fell to the floor in a heap of writhing agony. He gagged, cursed, pounded the wooden floor to compensate for his weakening flesh, and felt every muscle in his body contort and tear. Link was obviously waiting for something--probably for a cry for mercy--but the boy had underestimated Ganondorf's stubbornness. Instead of screaming in pain, instead of begging for forgiveness, Ganondorf just got angrier. Unable to give up, he sprawled and forced himself back onto his feet, beginning a thread of threats of his own.

"Why don't you fight back if you hate me so much?" Link impatiently mocked, weary of the man's inability to accept defeat.

"**You know that I can't**!" Ganondorf shrieked in the midst of his morbid swears, the sound of his voice so rigid with exasperation and rancor that Link was finally subdued.

Ganondorf didn't know this exclamation would solve his problem, but for some reason Link gave up and put his hand back at his side. The boy looked lost, almost bewildered by the anger being assailed against him, and without a word, he turned around and left.

_What was that?_

_

* * *

_  
It took Link several hours to do so, but the boy had recovered from his temper and seemed to have begrudgingly forgiven Ganondorf for the trouble.

"Get up Gerudo," a less-than-emphatic voice snapped. A foot met Ganon's side. "Goddesses, how long have you been lying in that same spot?"

"It's comfortable," Ganon responded dolefully.

Link made a skeptical look. "On the floor?"

"_Yes._"

Ganondorf often lost his ability to conjure believable lies when he was too miserable to think straight. After Link had left, Ganondorf's body had given up under the strain of terrible overwork. He had hit the floor with a thud, and when he found he did not have the strength to get up again, he used his time to refuse to believe this was happening to him. At intervals, he closed his eyes and attempted to correct the situation, for he was positive this must be some sort of crude, humiliating nightmare--all to no avail. This nightmare was surprisingly adhesive, and no method he used could revert it.

Of all the Hells he could have gone to, he ended up _here_, with his somewhat crazed mortal enemy as the headmaster. Ganondorf scowled. The gods must have a foul sense of humor.

"Is this always the method you use to pout?"

Ganondorf growled. "Shut the **HELL** up."

Link sighed. "That's a 'yes,' presumably?" He shook his head and moved to the door. "C'mon, get up..."

Ganondorf struggled to move his legs but was only greeted with a stabbing sensation of fire and soreness. He cringed and muffled, "Not right now."

"There's food," Link baited.

Ganondorf, feeling the rumbles in his stomach, tried again to get up. No luck. "Maybe later," he grumbled unhappily.

Link nearly grew flustered from Ganondorf's apparent stubbornness, not realizing that it was pain ailing the man. His jaw fell open, and his face flushed, but his angry words died in his mouth. With a huff, he decided not to mind it. "Whatever you want to do," he surrendered, not without a hint of sarcasm. He took in a shaky breath, clearly recovering from some sort of breakdown. "When you're up to it, you can walk around."

Link paused.

"But _do_ be careful next time not to be discovered."

Another pause. Ganondorf wished Link would just leave instead of standing about, speaking when words came to him.

"Who knows," Link mused with a smirk, "perhaps you cured Jamil of a drinking habit."

"Yes, yes, you're welcome," Ganondorf irritably pushed. "Do you mind? I'm trying to sleep."

* * *

Ow. 

_Ow._

Ganondorf, after dozing for several hours, decided to get up, despite the protesting throbs of pain racking his body. He acknowledged that he would have to learn to tolerate the pain eventually, so he started there, shifting his weight and standing on his feet. Though he wasn't happy, things were apparently going to improve. Link was allowing him out, and in addition to this, there was no detached voice haunting his mind.

Ganondorf feebly wondered what the voice had originated from. There was such little evidence to work from that all he could conclusively decide was that the voice was not his own. The crow and the voice in his head, then, were both outside sources trying to contact him. But why? What on earth was so eager to follow him? And how did this thing manage to find him?

All he could do was wait for the thing to contact him again. He'd deal with it then. He didn't even entertain the idea of sharing these experiences with Link--after all, he didn't have much to say other than something was talking to him and he had not the faintest idea what it was.

Besides, Link was being terribly inconsistent and bothersome. Ganondorf had never met someone so baffling--he was convinced that the boy must have several separate personalities. The boy apparently, too, only reserved these personalities for Ganondorf. Link acted quite calm and normal in the presence of comrades and friends, but the moment there was an attempted interaction between the two men, the boy's sanity fled.

_Just like a woman_, Ganondorf agonized in frustration. He didn't like this at all. Link was probably going to end up taking out every fit on him, and it did not help that Ganondorf had no protective measures. He thought through all of the magic he had learned, but all of his defensive spells were also offensive--mostly for redirecting a spell back at the caster. This was no help. He needed a passive defense: one that would simply eradicate the spell's effects altogether. There was not much hope of this being learned.

Ganondorf swore absently. This wouldn't turn out well.

* * *

The strange foreign man was getting on Link's nerves, although the Hylian wasn't prepared to show it. 

Not only was the nameless man following him and barraging him with endless questions, but the man was becoming increasingly vicious in attitude. Link had been doing his best to grin and bear it, as well as some efforts to avoid contact, but he and Zelda found that the man was not easily lost.

Link spent most of his time speaking with foreign leaders, particularly the dark man from earlier, with whom Link was apparently well acquainted with. Ganondorf, as he watched the exchanges between the men, did not drop his hatred. However, he was also getting the feeling that the energy was growing contagious. There was an undeniable mood surrounding the boy from every side--a sort of hypnotism--that led to an unquenchable curiosity and adoration. Every conversation carried this overtone: Link was unconsciously revered as holy and separate.

This worship was growing onto him and he didn't know why. For the time being, Ganondorf decided to ignore it.

* * *

Link and Zelda were seated in the presence of a roaring fire in an empty hall, drinking tea and doing their best to not be found. This proved futile. 

Ganondorf, along with the strange man who entered the room without invitation, found the event humorous in a peculiar way. Link and Zelda heard the man approach, but to Ganondorf's surprise they did not move. It was evident that Zelda wished to, but Link could not identify who was coming forth until it was too late and the man's oily voice was unleashed.

"Well, _there_ you are! You have no idea how long I've been looking for you."

Zelda concealed a scowl and Link nervously laughed as the man grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it across from the boy. "I do think I can imagine," Link responded in good nature, proving better at hiding his feelings than the Princess.

The man carried an obvious and hungry look to him, and Ganondorf did not expect the encounter to go well. The man looked like an interrogator, and the previous clash supported this notion.

"I have the most _awful_ curiosity, Hero," the man began, his eyes immediately setting into the dead pair that Link unfortunately bore. The man noticed, however, that there was a drink being exchanged between the two. "--I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Zelda was ready to lie and say they were immersed in important, private conversation. Link was not, and managed to answer first. "Oh no, sir. Not at all. Would you care for some?"

The Princess made a distinctly enraged noise.

The man smirked knowingly at the display but did not comment. "Indeed, I would. Thank you for your generosity."

"Indeed," Zelda shallowly echoed, tempted to rebelliously disregard the offer, but to his disdain, Link again ruined her attempts. Link placed his hand onto the table, precariously finding the china with his fingers, and set out to give the man some tea. The cycle was growing absurd. Every time Zelda nearly broke loose, Link would gracefully pull her back into control, submitting himself to the violent will of some deranged man. Zelda found herself defeated--she could not manage to uphold her temper when Link took everything so well. But she, and it so happened Ganondorf, too, did not like how simply Link was accepting this. Neither believed he should so readily prepare for verbal abuse.

He was too _nice_.

The man had the most wicked look as he took his cup of tea and began again. "Well, as I was saying. I do have some questions for you. Now," he spoke as he swirled his tea, "I don't mean to sound intrusive, but... You are the Hero of Time, yes."

He paused and the rest puzzled over the direction he was going. He sipped his tea fully and sighed with satisfaction.

"But, let us be honest, hmm? You are a soldier, and one with quite the disability. I guess what I am _trying_ to inquire about is: what exactly is a _cripple _like you doing in the Royal Castle?"

The conversation came to a dead halt and Zelda's face began to mutate.

'Cripple'? _'Cripple'?_ Ganondorf was so enraged with the poison in the man's tone that he nearly gave himself away. A cripple! What a foul joke; the man must have never met anyone of true quality--if he had, he wouldn't have entertained such a blasphemous term. Ganondorf watched intently, holding his breath and waiting for Link's response. Ganondorf furiously thought that if it were _he_ in Link's position, the man would be doomed to be a pile of ashes.

To his surprise, Link did not miss a beat, and shook the comment immediately from his shoulders. His tone was solemn and perfectly uninjured. "I assure you, sir, that nothing beyond my sight is impaired--therefore, the term _cripple_ would be quite inaccurate."

There was another tense silence, and Ganondorf watched as the man sat in defeat. This man was deliberately trying to fluster the boy, and having to accept such a cold response only left the man more determined than ever. His face burned with a deep flush, shaking in a silent fury. The man's eyes lit with his utter hatred, but he remained composed. He took in a breath, and with a dry tone responded, "Very well. Then, I suppose, my question is this: How did you come to be a part of this gathering?"

The man obviously was keeping his vile questions hidden until they proved useful. Link answered politely, "I served in the army, sir, as I told you before."

"Surely so, but many a man has served Hyrule and has never laid eyes--" The man paused. "--If you'll excuse the figure of speech."

"That is fine, sir..."

Ganondorf knew that was a lie. Link was surprisingly sensitive when people tried to bring up his ailment as frequently as this.

"...And I understand. But you see, I'm a personal acquaintance of Her Royal Highness."

"Ah. And how long have you known--"

"Several years, sir."

"Isn't the war still on? Why are you away from the battlefield so early?"

This, quite purposely, was an attack on Link's military record, and although Ganondorf had never witnessed anything Link had done on that battlefield, he felt inclined to believe Link was honorable. After all, the boy had managed to defeat him in battle. Whatever that meant, Ganondorf found it hard to accept the attack as anything but ridiculous. Link would never desert.

"I became blind while on duty, sir. I was deported back because of it."

The man glowered, and took a sip of his tea, eyes probing Link and waiting for another question to come to mind. Zelda sat stone silent, unable to speak up and defend Link against this interrogation. "If, say, you got your sight back tomorrow..." the man tapped his finger on the table. "...Would you return to the battlefield?"

Ganondorf _still_ didn't like the man's tone, but as Ganon continued to dwell on this, he realized that he was actually boiling over something that a stranger was saying to his mortal enemy. Shouldn't he be _enjoying_ this? Ganon tried to toss the thought aside, but it nagged him as he tried to decide what the right response was. Either way, there was an obscure tug of guilt and shame. Reveling in these attacks didn't seem right, but neither did condemning them. But no matter how he thought he should respond, nothing could numb his disgust with this man.

"No sir--I was actually serving more than I had to already. The doctors have also recommended not to, as they believe it may trigger my blindness again."

"Do they know why it happened?"

"They have no idea, sir."

_Quit calling the man 'sir!' _ Ganon mentally screamed.

The man took another drink, and a smirk crept at his lips and disappeared. Link sat with a blank look, of course not noticing the smirk and not knowing what to expect. "So, Link," the man began, his voice enough to make anyone's blood boil, "have you ever killed a man?"

The silence was that of sheer astonishment. The man had finally succeeded in his venture--Link's face drained of all color, jaw dropping and a loose syllable caught in his throat. "I--"

Had Ganondorf lost control, he would have burst from the shadows and ripped the man to pieces, sending both of them into abyss. Ganondorf was a cruel man, and had committed extraordinary crimes, but never had he prodded a warrior's conscience with so much disdain.

The stunned silence was only broken by a brisk transition from Zelda. "It's late. Say, Link, I should think that you want to meet Kanti..."

Link stuttered uneasily, "Wh-who?"

"Remember? I told you about her earlier. Ah--" Zelda glanced at the man sitting across from them. "Excuse us."

Link remained so startled, that he could only be moved with a firm tug at the shoulder. Zelda firmly wrenched him onto his feet, giving him only time enough to make an incoherent apology before they were both back in the corridors, moving towards nowhere in particular. Link, unable to recover, mumbled in surprise even while being pulled away from the disastrous confrontation.

"The _nerve_!" Zelda huffed immediately upon being freed from the room. "How dare he ask that! My father will hear of this, I assure you--"

"Zelda," Link softly chastised. "There is no need to be so offended. It was merely a question--"

"Merely a question?" Zelda sputtered in disgust. "You should have seen his face--he was _trying_ to hurt you!"

Link would have replied, but after a moment's thought, concluded that ending the conversation was best. Uncomfortably, he sunk back into silence. Zelda continued to fume as she wrapped an arm around his and led him down the hall. Link meekly followed, doing his best to plaster a smile on his face. Ganondorf followed closely behind, steaming along with the Princess. Had the situation been different, the man would have been another victim of his.

Link happily changed the subject, requesting that they return to the ballroom where couples were beginning to dance. Zelda must have misinterpreted the gesture, because she immediately tried to kiss him.

Link, as he did before, pretended to look the other way and dodged the kiss. Zelda, defeated and embarrassed, looked the opposite way and down to the floor.

Upon arriving at the ballroom, Zelda made an excuse for herself and left, asking for him to remain where he stood. Ganondorf suspected that her upset was causing her early leave, and knew Link sensed this as well. And so, Link agreed to stay and wait for her.

Ganondorf stood at his side, still enshrouded in invisibility. He thought for quite a bit, pondering over what had occurred between the two. He had seen this action take place several times already; it could not be happening on accident. Link was purposely avoiding any romance with Zelda. This, Ganon thought, was curious. Link obviously had an eye for her, and she returned these feelings.

Why back away from such an offer?

"Well," Link spoke thoughtfully, "that was interesting, no?"

"Hmm."

"Any thoughts?"

"Do you love her?" Ganon asked, being careful to watch for any coming their way.

Link paused, considering his answer. He fretted slightly, seemingly displeased with this question. "Well... _Yes_, I guess I do."

"Then why dodge it so valiantly?"

Link laughed. "You noticed?"

"It's difficult not to."

Link accepted this dismally, and explained, "As honest as our intentions are, I'm not royalty. To burden her with my romance would only cripple everything in her life. No, it is best this way. She will find another."

"Hmm."

Link frowned, a little irritated with Ganondorf's unchattiness. "You ask questions and never talk. Are you not convinced?"

This time, Ganondorf made no sound. Link stood baffled for a moment, but jumped when Zelda flocked back to his side. "Talking to yourself again?"

"Yes," Link quickly replied, taking her hand.

Zelda giggled in good nature, swiftly pulling him into the dance floor. Beneath a chandelier's glow, couples waltzed on a marble floor and chatted nonchalantly. Wine was exchanged, and a rather annoying character was already drunk--a boisterous rich man, roaring with laughter and taking another excessive sip of alcohol. The couples tried their best to ignore him while some worked to distract him.

The two danced away in the night.

* * *

Ganondorf was feeling incurably ill and he felt a terrible certainty as to what it was. 

Ganondorf did not write very often--he seldom had the opportunity or the inclination. But now he was not busy, and for once felt the need to write something down. He could stand this approaching confusion no longer and ached for explanation. He had before entertained limited adoration for the boy, but the voice's telltale words were starting to become true. The others still were held with fascination, longingly searching the boy out, but he was held back only by a weak reluctance bore by hatred.

He thought, bewildered by the rush that surrounded him, _this is all very silly_. Link, the blind warrior, was worshipped by all of those around him for his glory and strength. None could pass him without shuddering or crying out, and none could betray him…

Somehow, despite all of his violent malice, Ganondorf could not resist the urge to become swept up with this disease—Link was an idol, a jealous god that demanded servitude, and no one could deny him without feeling wasted. Ganondorf, try as he may, did not have the will power to withhold his adoration and worship. The aura around the boy struck him drunk, and all he could see this Link as the boy who defeated him.

This boy, this _terrible_ and magnificent boy--

And there, in the mustiness of his room, Ganondorf wrote the first of his insanities, and unbeknownst to him at the time, he was soon to write hundreds more. It was the beginning of his legacy of madness, and before his very eyes he was tossed into a world that represented no sense or righteousness. He scribbled the first paradox in hopes of unfolding its nature, but instead he unleashed a countless number of them in a savage procession.

It was the paradox—the impossibility of his feelings in relation to what existed—that drove him to write so fervently:

_I would kiss you for the stupidity of this situation—for the silly feelings that I have—and the ridiculous notion that I know to be true:_

_You are a god._

He slept for several hours, for the verse had exhausted him. When he awoke again, he looked again to the writing, examined it, and destroyed it out of fear. The crow came again, rattling its wings against the windowpane to attract his attention, but he bitterly slammed the window shut. He knew already, after all, what it was going to tell him. He had succumbed to Link's perfection and did not desire to be mocked for it.

* * *

Ganondorf slept heavily for an almost eerie amount of time. Link had once or twice knocked on the door throughout the passing evening, but the boy knew nothing of Ganon's suffering, and so he could only abandon all efforts to awaken him. Ganondorf felt so miserable and famished that he refused to move, fearing that any twitch could excite the encapsulated emotions. He remained sullen and destroyed, rolling about in bed, forcing himself to think this over. Sleep, he realized upon fingering the sheets, had become his estranged companion throughout this fiasco, giving him comfort even when nothing else held consistencies. Sleep would not ridicule him for his evolving emotions that he could not understand. 

The emotions that emerged were not only frustrating because of his lack of understanding--Ganondorf was surprisingly aware of his own reluctance to approach them. He knew that even if his emotions were understood, he would probably deny them all the same. These feelings were threatening to him. They threatened to erase all of his efforts to _hate_ Link. Every part of his mind and soul howled in its demand to wipe clean any thoughts that would contradict his hatred. He _lived_ to despise Link. It was all that kept him from falling apart.

And yet...

Ganondorf, in an irritated disturbance of his sleep, twisted over. He snorted, eyes fluttering open to see dim firelight flickering in the darkness. He lay there for several minutes, choosing not to move. He gazed out in boredom. His complaining stomach desired food, and he wasn't sure if he could neglect this need much longer. He dwelled on this for quite a good while, but at last he heaved his body upward.

The movement was met with an extreme wave of pain. The excruciating pain arose like flame in his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Ganondorf moaned, clutching for his heart, but soon realizing that the pain had faded and was now rising from someplace much more _worrisome_.

Ganondorf froze. A headache enflamed, and he could feel his stomach convulse. His head swam. Color drained from his face, and cold sweat formed on his brow. He could smell it and even feel it soak into the cloth. There was blood.

There was blood... All over...

Ganondorf, despite the pain that continued to swell, shot up onto his feet. He dizzily turned to the bed and gawked in horror. A pool of a dark crimson liquid stained the sheets, a trail of blood leaking down the bed's side and back to his feet. Blood still dripped from where he stood.

The first desperate thought he had was an accusation. He at first thought that Link had done this to him. The pain was strangely familiar, and he recalled that it was Link's first attempt at using the spell. Was this some unexpected side effect?

_Goddesses, he's killed me._

The amount of blood he was spilling was massive. He quickly felt the consequences of such a blood spill, as his head began to spin with nausea. Out of every orifice in his body, blood began to ooze and swim, soon blocking his throat and nostrils and sending him gagging to the floor. He struggled, choking and desperately gasping for air.

Throughout his alarm, he managed to gain control of himself and spew enough blood to breathe. He pondered his next move, but knew he didn't have much time.

The only thing he could think of doing was unlocking the door. At least then, Link could perhaps find him.

Ganondorf twisted the key in the lock before collapsing painfully against the door. Ganondorf swore once more, seeing the blood begin to pool on the floor. He could feel himself lose consciousness fast...

After what seemed to be an eternity of agony, Link had returned, and found the door unlocked but barricaded with Ganondorf's unconscious body. He made one push and realized something was wrong. With a strong heave, Link shoved the door open and sent Ganon's body skidding back over the floorboards with a thud.

"Gerudo," he hissed as sharply as he could. Link could smell the copper, and cringed at the stench. There were splashes and drips, and as he listened and smelled, the color drained from Link's face.

He could hear no answer but a faint gurgle and moan.

Link dashed into the room, spiraling and searching for Ganon with his hands. "Ganon?" he again pleaded, falling to the floor and searching blindly.

Ganondorf gave a groan. Link lunged in the direction of the weak sound, toppling on top of the dying Gerudo man. Having no time for formalities, Link patted Ganondorf down with his fingers, feeling through Ganon's body to bear a mental image. Link sat on his knees, dead eyes staring into nowhere while his hands smoothed over the man's body.

He searched for the wounds, but to his despair he could find none. Instead, Ganondorf bled inexplicably from every opening in his body.

Link was not a doctor, but he knew he could not find a Hylian doctor willing to treat Ganondorf Dragmire. With no other place to turn, Link set to work at the only healing spell he knew--he didn't know if it would work at all, much less work well, but it was all he could do.

"Please, please let this work---"

As Link proceeded, a part of him mused at his sense of urgency. This was the enemy lying before him, spontaneously dying, and now he was fretting as though it were his friend. The irony of the situation escaped him in the haze of desperation, and so he decided to sort it out later.

His magic glared intensely, and although it felt resistant to healing this man, it submitted to Link's control. The power grew, unfurled like a blooming flower, overflowing onto the floor. The shimmering spell crept along the Gerudo's skin, and at first the sensation was alien and unwanted. Ganondorf's body convulsed, but the magic took hold and to Link's relief, the bleeding slowed.

"I think…"

Ganondorf's eyes were shut.

"I think that will take care of it," Link murmured conversationally, placing a hand to Ganon's forehead, critically thinking over the instance. "For now, anyway," he added carefully, only so that he may hear it come from his mouth. The body was chilled, shivering--

Link's heart was still hammering from the abruptness of Ganondorf's collapse. This wasn't normal. It couldn't be. No one breaks into such powerful seizures of bleeding without warning or reason. Link grappled briefly with his feelings, debating whether he ought to feel sorry about it or dismiss it.

It _was_ just Ganondorf.

But then again, he _was_ Link.

Ganondorf did not see much after his collapse. He did feel relieved from his pain and wounds, but his vision started to play tricks on him. He saw the strange, foreign man standing in the doorway, smiling leisurely, musing over the instance that he admired. He grew in his worry, however, once he heard Link's pleas for secrecy. The man was talking, grinning, and Link was desperately begging him not to give them away--

Ganondorf, dizzy from his fall, gave the man a disapproving look. It felt like a dream or a heavy hallucination, but to his horror, he knew it was not.

The headache came back with a vengeance.

The man faded, but not without spitting out that hideous voice that had infected him before--the voice implanted in his head was now on this person's lips.

"_Don't be sorry, Ganondorf._"

* * *

Things were simply not going as he thought they should, and he wanted this ordeal to stop. 

Ganondorf did not have time to ponder whether he was going insane, but if he had committed to such an evaluation, he would be convinced his mind wasn't right.

When he had fainted, the room was painted with blood, he was lying on the floor, and Link was dithering above him in feigned worry. Now that he woke up, he was on top of his bed of all things, and immediately, the situation took a bizarre turn. The room was free from any sign of blood. And--

"You!" Ganondorf blurted. The crow was there _again_.

Without any inhibitions this time, he leapt for the opportunity to interrogate the animal, despite its apparently distracted mood. It was squawking in irritation, bounding across the floor, beating its body repeatedly against the surface of the door. Ganondorf got up, discovering Link blacked out on top of him (he swiftly removed the unconscious body without any thought).

"You--beast! How did you get in here?"

The door and window were shut and the crow only responded by hitting the door once more.

Ganondorf gritted his teeth. "What do you _want_ with me? Is there some reason you find it amusing to harass me?"

The crow still acted as though it couldn't hear him. Ganondorf thought it was mocking him and fell to his knees in order to stare at it closely.

"I know you can hear me! Now tell me what you want! What price do you have? What act do you require of me so that you leave me at peace?"

The bird flapped its wings angrily and Ganondorf grabbed for its body in a rage. The critter according bit him and savagely sliced a wound across his hand. Ganondorf cursed loudly, and as he decided not to endure this nonsense any longer, he kicked it with all of his might. With a choked cry, the crow was shattered underfoot and died.

Ganondorf did not expect it to die so easily and paused to stare at the mangled creature. He suddenly doubted himself--was that the crow he had seen earlier? He almost fretted at the possibility that he had just killed an animal for no reason other than his own delusions, but he calmed himself and shoved the corpse aside with his foot. It was only a crow, regardless. He smiled at his private joke.

_I kill hundreds and it doesn't shake my conscience; I kill a bird and I worry over its innocence._

He sighed and looked back at the room. The crow may have not been his regular visitor, but clearly something was wrong. The blood had all vanished without a trace. Had he really dreamed it all?

Ganondorf decided it wasn't worth the thought. Stranger things had happened to him before.

"Link, wake up!" he finally badgered, turning to the bed. The boy was still out, lying across the bed dumbly. "Lazy thing," Ganondorf spat venomously, and ventured towards the door. He was hearing something faint and clear, like the white noise of the ocean's waves, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

He could even feel it, the rumble of activity trembling beneath his feet.

Ganondorf opened the door, cloaked himself from sight, and started to leave. But as he stepped out, he saw someone go down the stairs. It took a moment to register, but it was the strange man, and immediately upon recalling this, Ganondorf raced down the hallway. The man was still here? He hadn't dreamed it? He nearly yelled for the man to stop before remembering that it would give him away. His heart hammered. He found the stairway, looked down it, found no one, and without thought barreled down it as well. He had to catch the man if he was to confirm his fears.

The man wasn't at the bottom either, so Ganondorf made a final sprint for the door. He opened it, charged through desperately, but only found an empty alleyway.

The man had disappeared.

Ganondorf was so insistent on figuring out what was going on that he did not hear the awakened Link try to call him with hisses.

"Hey, get back here--!"

That recognizable thunder! Ganondorf rushed for the pounding earth, the pulsing street, and soon discerned the sound of a thousand voices. It was a crowd, screaming in ecstasy, raging with a terrible strength.

Several men ran past the alleyway, howling the news. "They're here!"

Who's here?

Ganondorf followed their footsteps, disregarding everything around him, barely able to see anything for the darkness. The moon was shrouded, the fires were roaring, and he strained to track the flickers of light. Every orange star sparkling on the roads gave away a villager's position, and as he found the crowd. There were torches blinking in every direction, cheers of men and women, feverous celebrations...

He carefully looked past the faces and tried to find the source of their joy. He saw riders on horses, a familiar style of parade, and to his mortification, he recognized the people.

There were women--countless women, bronze-skinned and hair as fiery red as rubies. The Hylians kept cheering.

He _had_ to go back to find Link.

* * *

"My Lady!" 

Nabooru was sitting atop a carriage, nearly drifting asleep in the deft roar of the crowds. The Gerudos had traveled quite the distance to get here, and she was more prepared to go to bed than to deal with attention. She sighed at the call, shaking herself awake, and looking to the warrior walking along the side. "Yes?"

"Link's here and wants to speak with you."

Nabooru blinked with surprise. "Really, now?" She smiled and looked to Malati, who was seated beside her. "So he did come."

"Of course I did!" Link spoke aloud, quickening his pace alongside the carriage, cheerfully staring into the distance. "What would the world do without me?"

Nabooru would have offered Link a seat if one were available, but the carriage was small enough as it was, and Malati took up the only other seat. Malati leaned over, her red curls rounding her mild face. "What a pleasant surprise, Hero. We heard you were late and assumed you weren't arriving at all."

Link made a vexed laugh. "How is it that everyone hears about my tardiness?"

"Never mind that," Nabooru insisted. "Do you need something? Is it urgent?"

"I do have need of you both," Link replied. "But here is not the place to discuss it. Could I speak with you tonight?"

"Of course, Hero," Malati granted.

Link, getting tired of trotting, leapt up onto the carriage, grabbing the wood and balancing his feet at the entryway's edge. He stood, teetering on the edge, and held out his hand. "Thank you--my Captain," he nodded to Nabooru, "--my Queen," he nodded to Malati. "I apologize for the habit," he said as Nabooru let him take her hand and kiss it.

"Very well," Malati resigned, offering her hand as well. "I am looking forward to speaking with you, Link."

After kissing her hand, he jumped back down from the carriage and nodded. "I am, too."

Nabooru started to nod off again once he left. Tonight, she thought as she stared out into the enthusiastic crowd of Hylians, promised to be interesting.

* * *

(A/N: See? **Gag**. I think it's my duty as the author to complain about how inadequate this chapter was, but I suppose that's really up to outside observers. 

Is it just me, or is Link getting a little… Dominant? He's starting to see possibilities in this situation that he didn't see before. (Insert malicious cackle here.)

Another interesting note: I realized someone who has this story on their favorites' list has all yaoi/M-rated fics in her list. I don't know what that means, but somehow it disturbs me that someone has a list of stories they like that includes all gay porn stories _and_ Lethe. I guess I should expect this? I'm no fan of yaoi, and this isn't going to be one, but this story will probably end up being a likeable one for those who do like the genre.

I guess I'm just warning any yaoi-fans who are reading this: it's _not_ going to be gay romance. It's _noooot_. So please don't read this while thinking, "I can't wait until this story gets to the part where Ganon and Link make out and run off into the sunset together." You will be sorely disappointed.

I'll probably add that disclaimer every chapter, at the rate of how much weirdness I'm going to put in here.

Now that I'm done saying this yet again, please review! I'll get to work on the next chapter; I'm looking forward to it—the plot really kicks in soon!)


	5. a new purpose

A/N: YES! FIFTH CHAPTER IS UP! (Does victory dance) Hard and deliberate labor brought you this, folks. Enjoy.

(Also: Note the change of screen-name. "Afterlyfe" has been a pen-name for me for ages, so I decided to do some covering of my tracks. There is some... Er... Embarrassing literature floating around the web under that name. Me and my overactive imagination have produced some bizarre travesties in our day...)

* * *

**Chapter 5: a new purpose**

"If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us." **Hermann Hesse**

"_Are you alright_?"

Ganondorf was hastily trying to skip over Link's inquiries. "What are they doing here?" he asked more forcefully, unable to conceal his exasperation.

"Just a moment ago, you collapsed and nearly died--_what happened_?"

Ganondorf huffed, eying Link with disdain. He had discovered an obstacle in his search for answers. For Ganondorf, even deadly situations that resolved themselves momentarily were of no interest to him--the fact that he had collapsed and passed out from bleeding and the fact that all traces of the occurrence had vanished for no reason did not bother him. Ganondorf decided that he did not understand it, and that it had passed, so he would not dwell on it. He had found a new topic to abuse and wanted an immediate change in focus.

Link, he found, was the exact opposite. Link refused to let go of what had happened, and barricaded all possibilities to accessing new information. For Link, the reason behind his collapse was critically important. After all, the future may provide another instance, and the boy wasn't sure he would be saved again.

"I don't know," Ganon impatiently replied. "Never mind that! Tell me what they are doing here!"

Link looked ready to give up, but uneasily offered a truce. "You're _sure_ you are feeling well?"

"Yes."

Link skeptically stepped down, knowing that no argument in the world would convince this man otherwise. "All right."

"Tell me now," Ganondorf spoke with uncharacteristic eagerness, "what has been going on here?"

Link did not sound so enthused about the history, but begrudgingly accepted the citation's necessity. The two stood awkwardly a moment, as though they ought to be sitting, but the room had no place to be seated, save for a bed, which was in no way a proper place to sit. So instead of sitting down, they loitered in hopes that this would not have to take long.

"It's... A bit complicated," Link admitted. "But I suppose it would be best to get this over with.

"It was soon after you were banished that an overseas, aggressive country made an invasion from across the ocean, and through the desert. They attacked the Gerudos without warning--as you can imagine, this was all awfully confused at the time--and no one was very sure what they wanted. They managed a swift takeover, mainly because your people..." Link took a cautious breath. "They suffered from a lack of strong leadership, I think. They were forced from their homeland, and of course the King was keeping a wary eye on such things. The kingdom did not _especially_ want to get intermingled with foreign matters, but I, with some others, argued to intervene. Ultimately, I believe, it was a political decision: the country was likely to take its aggression further, and the last thing we needed was an angered race _and_ a warmongering nation in our midst. So..."

"So?"

"That was that. We joined preemptively, and the first time that I know of, our races fought a war on the same side. And, too, I believe, fighting alongside each other can bring people to great understanding. Ever since, things have been warm between the two. The Gerudos appreciated the help and the Hylians think they're military masterminds."

Of everything Ganondorf had ever heard, this was the worst news, and he didn't even know why. Whatever it was, to hear of this alliance and flourishing world between his race and his enemy made him feel very, _very_ troubled. But Ganon had mastered the art of faking his tone of voice. He pretended to sound surprised as he dumbly mumbled, "I... I see... Hence, the cheering."

"Oh?" Link blinked and cocked his head. "Oh, yes. That. Indeed--your people are very talented in war. Their tactics once or twice saved many of our lives."

Ganondorf stopped wanting to discuss it and his mind grew rigid with irritability. "_I get it_."

Link ceased speaking, seemingly confounded with Ganon's sudden reverse of mood, but privately understood.

"I'm glad they've managed to do so well without me," Ganondorf lied through his teeth, the statement deeply sour in his mouth.

Link uneasily consented. "Well, however you want to think of it... All the same, I have an appointment tonight."

Ganondorf paused. "And?"

"You will join me, won't you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Link just smiled.

* * *

Ganondorf had somehow forgotten to inquire who Link was meeting with, and by the time he remembered its relevance, it felt silly to bring it up. 

Ganondorf was, besides, rather occupied, even as they entered the castle halls. It was difficult to concentrate on anything other than the numbers of Gerudos passing by. He could feel his heart beating at a worrisomely rushed rate, and he only became more excited as he could identify some of them. He never thought he could miss these people so dearly.

Link was, meanwhile, not in the mood to entertain the touching reunion. He paced down the hallway, hand against the wall, counting the doors under his breath.

"Seven... Eight..."

Ganondorf subtly interrupted with a hiss. "Are you sure you know where we're going?"

"Of course I do."

"How?"

"I _asked_," Link returned sharply. "Do you have a point? Now I've lost count."

Ganondorf grumpily went quiet and Link fretted in his attempt to remember where he had left off.

"I did tell you who we're meeting with, didn't I?"

"No," Ganondorf replied flatly. It was about time.

"Oh," Link quipped. "I should have guessed; you've been awfully calm about this, after all."

"Why wouldn't I be calm?" Ganondorf raised an eyebrow.

"Ah... Well, it will be some people you know. Did I tell you about Malati either?"

"_Malati?_"

Link clicked his tongue. "How dreadful that I've forgotten these things! Well, it sounds like you two know each other."

"_Know each other_?" Ganondorf hissed in exasperation. "We 'know' each other all right! What about her?"

"She's the leader of Gerudos now, and I'm going to speak with her now. She'll be accompanied by Nabooru, as well."

Ganondorf, after hearing two names he was not thrilled to hear of again, changed his mind and abruptly changed direction. He believed that if Link wanted to get entangled in such matters, that was his right, but Ganondorf did not want to meet those two women. Nabooru, obviously, was no friend of his, and Malati was--quite frankly--critical of him from the beginning. But before Ganondorf could swiftly take his leave and escape, Link heard his steps and seethed.

"Gerudo, if you try to run away, I will _gladly_ drag you there by a leash."

Not one to be outdone by threats, Ganondorf responded with an obnoxious snort. "Why do I have to be there? I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time without my company."

"The meeting's _about_ you."

"Great; have a good time talking _about _me."

Link shook his head despondently and continued down the hallway. "I may well muzzle you while I'm at it."

"You would," Ganondorf sourly complained, and as soon as Link walked onward, he gave in and followed.

Link had apparently found the appropriate door at last and knocked, and once the door opened, Ganondorf realized he was going to regret this. A familiar face peered out from the dim-lit room smiled.

"Link, come in," Nabooru welcomed him, speaking in the rhythmic tones of her native language. Ganondorf did not think Link would understand what she said, but to his surprise, Link nodded and entered, keeping a stray shoulder in the way of the door.

"Captain--My Queen. It is wonderful to see you again."

Ganondorf shook his head, thinking he was hearing things, but to his dismay, he heard correctly. Link had just opened his mouth and spoke in Gerudo. Ganondorf would have intervened immediately and put a stop to this travesty, but Link was already absorbed in a conversation with the two women. Link continued to speak beautifully in his language, and stubbornly propped the door open despite Nabooru's attempt to close it. As usual, Link's deliberate manipulations came off as blind clumsiness, and Ganondorf slipped inside the room before Nabooru convinced Link to move out of the way.

The room was cozy enough to be a little cluttered once the Gerudo women had settled in, but the women were not known to be choosy, so no uncontentment was expressed of it. The room was just another of the countless guest rooms the castle had to offer, and was in fact very similar to what Ganon had seen of Link's. Ganondorf at first paid little attention to the room's contents, but then he could smell the distant scent of food, and he suddenly remembered how long he had gone without it.

Nabooru smiled coolly after the door shut and the three stood in a circle. "Have you been getting along by yourself well? Hasn't it been a bit lonely, traveling alone all the time?"

Link made an amused noise. "Ah, no, actually."

As the three engaged in a fluent Gerudo discussion of their personal exploits, Ganondorf looked on in agony. This situation did not seem right to him at all. Link was not only fluent in _his_ language (an insult in itself), but the boy was speaking to the women as though conversing with friends. Who does he think he _is_?

Ganondorf had to hold his tongue until he was introduced. This promised to be an interesting meeting.

"Link," Malati spoke suddenly, "I sensed some urgency in your request for this arrangement. Is there something you need to talk about?"

Link cocked his head.

"Was I wrong in my interpretation?" Malati asked in surprise.

"No," Link admitted. "Perhaps we should be seated before I continue."

"Bad news?" Nabooru guessed.

"In a way," Link vaguely clued. "There is no danger, at the very least."

The two were not sure how to react to this statement, and so they said nothing and took a seat at the table, inviting Link to join them.

"What's this about?" Malati impatiently badgered him. Malati never did like to be held in suspense.

Link took in a strained breath. The matter was complicated, and he didn't know how to start this off in the gentlest way. "It's about an old acquaintance of yours, I think."

Malati and Nabooru were evidently not encouraged by these words and glanced at each other warily.

Link reluctantly motioned for Ganondorf to emerge from the shadows, and with a similar resistance to the idea, Ganondorf moved forward. Bracing for their expressions, he uneasily dropped the spell and became visible.

Ganondorf did not expect Malati to be surprised, and true to her nature, she gave him an eerily undramatic gaze. "What a shock," she murmured dishonestly, keying her comment with a tired sigh.

Nabooru, on the other hand, was not a calm woman and stood to her feet. She looked utterly mortified. "Link!" she managed, only irritating Ganondorf more. _'Link'? She sees me and the first thing she can think of saying is 'Link'?_

"It's all right," Link hastily interjected, sensing the alarm in her voice.

"What's he doing here?" Malati asked, giving Ganondorf a privately critical look. Ganondorf gave a flippant glare in return.

"The goddesses are playing games with me," Link sighed. "What can I say? I found him and Din has promised me--"

"_I _found _you_," Ganondorf corrected crossly, in Hylian. He couldn't get used to the idea of speaking to the boy in Gerudo.

Link only stammered a moment, made a somewhat irritated noise at being interrupted, and completed his comment in Gerudo. "--That he will be under my supervision."

"Why did she do that?" Nabooru bemoaned, giving Ganondorf an uncharacteristically uneasy look.

"I think she was dreadfully bored," Ganondorf decided to reply to her, getting weary of being spoken of as though he wasn't standing there.

Malati stood up and trekked swiftly to the opposite side of the room, the sound of Ganondorf's voice seemingly irking her. The others spoke around the reflex.

Link spoke deliberately and evenly, despite the clear tensions. "I believe it has to do with my trouble," he theorized, pointing to his eyes.

Nabooru scoffed. "That doesn't make any sense, Link. We both know you've been blind for years..."

Malati interrupted Nabooru's pondering with a frustrated huff.

"...My Queen?" Nabooru inquired.

Malati crossed her arms, staring into the wall with her piercing, disapproving gaze.

Malati was not the oldest of Gerudos, and in her race's eyes, she was hardly an elder. Although she was well older than Ganondorf, Gerudo women were well-known for their gift of graceful aging. The senior Gerudo women would commonly live to two-hundred years, and at one-hundred would betray few practical signs of aging. Malati, even as she stood as a seventy-year-old woman, brought about the powerful memories of youth and vigor. Ganondorf eyed her feebly, reminding himself of her unfortunate connection with him. This woman was one of the sacred line, the generation of women who traditionally held power in the Gerudo clan. Before he was born, she was the Queen; after he was born, she was demoted to second-in-command.

She was always the one with the harshest criticisms and the least optimism concerning his abilities as a leader. He did not remember particularly desiring such adversarial tension when he was a child, but he was too young to understand why she hated him so foully, and he grew up to learn only how to defend himself desperately from her attacks. He always had an uncomfortable feeling of helplessness around her--he did not feel he deserved her malice, and nothing he ever did could satisfy her. Ganondorf would always be, in her mind, the incompetent one who was born into a position she deserved more.

"Tell me, Link," she asked quietly, "have you paid heed to your dreams lately?"

"I have not had any," Link reasoned. He made a worried face, as he knew the direction this was going.

"I have." Malati frowned cognitively. "I spoke with Princess Zelda preceeding this meeting, Link, and she has seen the same things as I have."

She rubbed her temples and the room went silent.

"There is a great darkness coming here."

"...M-me?" Ganondorf spoke before thinking clearly. At first thought, it seemed perfectly logical that Zelda would sense his presence. However, even as Ganondorf spat out this guess, there was a terrible nagging idea at the back of his mind. He couldn't get the thought of that crow, that creamy voice corrupting him, out of his head...

"Don't flatter yourself," Malati grunted angrily. "I thought at first it may be you, as well, but you are obviously not a threat, and besides, this evil is very different. It is distant and yet I cannot abandon this feeling that it is already here."

Ganondorf wasn't feeling too well. The more he thought over it, the more probable it became. This thing that was contacting him was very real, very close. Nabooru noticed his suddenly pale and sickly demeanor, and she gave him an inquisitive look. "Ganon? Is something wrong?"

Eyes settled on him and he took in a shaken breath. "Ah--no. Not really."

Neither of the women looked convinced.

Ganondorf momentarily pouted, but this act did not keep up. He finally uttered the truth as far as he knew. "I've been visited."

"Visited?" Link asked upon realizing Ganondorf had kept a secret.

"I don't know its name," Ganondorf carefully informed them, "but it seems to have an... Investment of sorts."

"In what?"

"In us."

"All the same," Malati interrupted, "whatever it is, this darkness is unfamiliar. Zelda did not recognize it; none of the Sages knew it."

Link openly expressed this concern with a frown. "What do you want me to do about it?" Link queried, unsure of what role he would play.

Ganondorf was growing perturbed with the increasing edge in Link's voice. Link's approval of the situation had radically dropped once there was a possibility of personal involvment.

"Nothing, yet," Malati reasoned.

"I don't want to get mixed up in this," Link warned crossly. "I've had my fill, and you know that."

Nabooru gave Link a mournful look, and it was apparent that this was an age-old point of friction. "Link, please. If this is true, you can hardly drop out whenever you wish... It may be interested in you, as well."

"Who said it was interested in me?" Link scoffed, turning to Ganondorf. "Did it ever happen to mention my name?"

Ganondorf blinked dumbly. "It... Did."

"What did it say?"

"I don't know. It didn't really _say_ anything, I just assumed..."

Link huffed and turned back to Malati, flippantly accusing, "Now, listen! Why is it that you people obsess over such things? You have a dream, a petty hallucination probably brought on by stress, and try to draw meaning from it."

Malati somehow remained calm. "Link, the Princess is well adept in the interpretation of dreams, and you do not seem to have qualms about listening to her. What is this about, Link?"

"You people are trying to get me involved in something that is not relevent to me," Link explained wearily.

"'You people'?" Malati echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Link shot a blind glance to Nabooru and made a condencending sigh. "I should have known that the Sages would require my services so quickly again."

"We have not asked for anything yet, Link--"

Link sat back in his chair, the most frustrated look crossing his face. This was a worn expression, and Ganondorf could tell from his demeanor that he was exhausted. Link had served Hyrule for years, and Ganondorf had never thought that the boy could ever tire of it, yet somehow, Link portrayed the agonies of a parent with a trouble-making child. He had saved Hyrule enough, it seemed, and he had resigned to its constant clashes with chaos in hopes that it would save itself.

Ganondorf did not like this evolving trait, and though he wasn't sure why, there was a distinct feeling that Link had cheated.

"You cannot fall back on me all of the time," Link spoke in his jaded exasperation. "Can you not, for once, deal with this alone?"

"Link, you do not have that choice," Nabooru fumed. "I do not want to argue about this now--please. You are the Hero, and fate has given you to Hyrule."

Link's voice softened, but at the same time it lowered, and so the words did not lose their power. "Nabooru," he calmly stated without as much as a blink, "I am not the Hero. We both know this."

To Ganondorf's surprise, Nabooru only fretted in response and did not refute his comment.

"You know the gods depend on you," Malati retorted quietly.

"If your gods have to depend on _me_ to get anything done, I would recommend you invest in some more capable dieties."

Ganondorf started to laugh, and Nabooru gave him a nasty look for it. He couldn't help it. Link had spoken the absurd, and yet it sounded familiar to his own musings. "Your blasphemy is adorable," Ganondorf taunted, sitting back in his chair, still snickering.

Malati snarled and spoke in Hylian, as though she couldn't bear to speak in a language as intimate as their native one. "You stay out of this."

Link seconded this with a disapproving, "Shut your mouth."

-

The rest of the meeting was sour, and so without warning, Link informed them he had "business." It was an obvious ploy, but no one was obliged to object to it. There was, however, an unexpected twist to his request.

"Would you watch him?" Link pointed to where Ganondorf was seated. The Gerudo women both gawked at him, and he ventured, "Well, you see, I'm a bit busy..."

Ganondorf, upon realizing what was happening, began to panic. He had endured a short meeting with these women, but he was _not_ about to bear staying with them alone. "Wait a minute," he objected, "I'm staying here? You didn't--"

"I'm getting a bite to eat; is that a crime? Honestly!" Link sounded offended by the sudden lack of enthusiasm surrounding him. "I thought you might... You know... Enjoy a meal with some old acquaintences."

"Well, I _wouldn't_," Ganondorf informed him frankly. He switched up to a subtle whine. "Can't I come with you?"

It struck him that he was so suddenly starting to beg.

Link made a face, as though ill, but no reply came, and he shuffled his feet momentarily. After the brief, uncomfortable bristle, Link finally sputtered his excuse. "I... I _really_ am quite busy."

Ganondorf didn't have any way to disprove him, so instead he made a last, desperate pitch. "I'll go back to the inn; I really don't want--"

Link disregarded his attempt and looked to the two women. "You two wouldn't mind, would you? The chef should be making his rounds to this room shortly. As long as it isn't any trouble."

Malati was clearly unhappy, so Nabooru spoke before anything regrettable was said. "Of course, Link."

The other Gerudo gave her a dirty look, and Link happily took his leave.

"Why did you say that?" Ganondorf growled at her in Gerudo. "What are you going to do _now_?"

Nabooru haplessly shrugged. "I honestly thought it would be better to leave him alone a while, if he wishes it."

"You're right. He's a treasure," Ganondorf sarcastically scowled.

"He's changed," Nabooru gently corrected, trailing off to Malati's end of the room. The women settled themselves as far away from him as they could and ensured that few words were shared with him. They spoke in Gerudo loftily, as though he did not exist, and at times he would feebly try to interrupt, but Malati fought valiantly against it. He would speak in Gerudo, and she would respond by giving Nabooru a shocked look.

"Did you hear that?" she lazily would inquire, still in Gerudo, still not facing him. "I could have sworn I heard something."

He would act horribly offended and fume, spitting that she was disrespecting him. She would casually ignore him.

This lasted for half an hour, until food arrived, but Malati was growing more vengeful by the minute. Ganondorf did what he could to get his hands on a meal, but the food was hoarded on their side, and the two women ate in disregard of his presence. When Ganondorf tired of this childish nonsense, he at last confronted them.

"My Queen--" he at last hissed.

Malati sighed and gave him a condencsending look.

"Is it my mistake, or did Link leave me here with the intentions of giving me some food?"

"Is it my mistake," she mocked, "or did he never tell me that was our responsibility?"

"I understand you're not happy with me, my Queen--"

Malati interrupted him in Hylian. "Why do you talk like that?" she demanded haughtily. "Don't pretend you're something you're not."

Ganondorf looked in agony at the food before him, and could barely hear her reviling comments. It sounded so caustic that he didn't want to listen to it, and so his mind shut the words out.

"I know what you're trying to do: you're trying to butter me up, now that you don't have authority. Don't think I'm not familiar with that game. As far as our clan is concerned, you are not a Gerudo. Don't waste my time trying to act like you are."

For a minute, it seemed as though Ganondorf hadn't heard what she said, and she was prepared to even repeat it. However, the rejection had somehow come across, and although Ganondorf did not betray it, he felt a heavy sense of defeat. He stood there, shell-shocked and at a loss.

"Go sit down," she ordered him tiredly, and he accordingly returned to his seat. For the next few hours, he watched them eat and converse in a now alien language. He was hungry, humiliated, and deathly bored.

The fact hit him like a slap to the face.

_I'm not Gerudo._

_I don't even exist._

_Then... What am I?_

He needed an ale badly.

* * *

Link was truthfully not surprised that Ganondorf was sulking once he came back. He thanked the two women for allowing him to stay, and tried to badger the same appreciation out of Ganondorf, but the Gerudo man was not in a thankful mood. He wandered out of the room, apparently guessing that Link was going to exchange a few words and not wishing to be a part of it. 

Malati was acting strangely, Link acknowledged, but she was probably a bit sour from his loss of temper a bit earlier. Link told himself to watch that.

"Link," she began just before he left, "I would be glad to speak with you later."

"Why?"

"There is plenty to discuss."

-

Ganondorf was acting as if every step he took back to the inn was some sort of drudgery, and Link somehow prognosticated the problem.

"Did you eat?" he asked skeptically.

"No," Ganondorf answered simply.

Link snorted with irritation. "And why did you do that?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"You stubborn _clod_," Link sharply chastised, "you haven't eaten all day. I don't give a damn whether you're _hungry_ or not. It's not doing either of us any good, this nonsense--"

Link proceeded to give him some lecture about his 'refusal' to eat, and since it didn't apply, Ganondorf didn't listen to a word of it. He just hoped Link would hurry and 'make him' eat something. Gods, he was starved, and he still needed that drink.

"Well, whatever," Link dismissed. "I'll come in with some food. How late is it?"

"I'm sure it's well past midnight."

"You'll have to have a very late dinner, then."

Ganondorf was overcome with a feeling of nausea. He wanted to eat, and desperately so, but without reason he was beginning to doubt its usefulness. He was dizzy with hunger, but the thought of eating made him ill. He ignored these illogical sensations, however. He needed to eat something. If he didn't, he would collapse from hunger. Any part of him that challenged this was not reasonable and did not merit his respect.

His thoughts slipped back to what Malati had said, and he shook. "Link?"

"Hmm?"

"I need a drink."

"Water?"

"No, not that..."

"Ah," Link finally understood. "That's all right--I can get that for you."

Had Link known what abuse Ganondorf was about to inflict on his intoxicating drink, he may well have not allowed it, or at least not have provided so much. But the deed was done, and Link purchased him the amount he requested, which happened to be too much. Ganondorf was surprisingly quick to succumb to alcohol, and so Link had to face what he never could have before imagined.

* * *

Ganondorf felt some of his lost appetite return, though he still could not consume the amount he knew he had consumed in his younger years. He was hungry enough, however, to gain some ground. He ate to his fill, and once satisfied, made aggressive moves towards his alcohol. 

With his swigs, Ganondorf steadily fell to pieces. He was exhausted from facing these changes, and refused to accept that nothing was the same. It was beyond culture shock--he had been dropped into a world that he felt he should know, at yet nothing was recognizable. The similar things had become distant and strange. His native country had become an foreign one...

He was alone, so drinking himself into a fit did not qualm him. He became wretched, furious, impotent, distraught, and pained. There was nothing he could do but privately storm and blubber like a perfect imbecile.

It would not be fair to accuse Ganondorf of doing this often, but similarly, he was not completey unfamiliar with such tantrums. He did not always go to alcohol to solve his problems, but there were times when he dreaded thinking normally. Emotion was, after all, easier to excuse when he was drunk.

Link entered the room only to receive a foul command.

"Get out!"

Link did not obey, but stood idly in the doorway, pondering the noises he heard. He raised an eyebrow. "Am I hearing correctly?"

Ganondorf hoarsely tried again. "Leave!"

"Gerudo, is something wrong?"

"No."

They were left at a standstill then, with Ganondorf's forehead pressed against the far wall, and Link waiting for Ganondorf to say more.

The momentary silence was interrupted with a drunken snivel, and immediately Link understood. He sighed and closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Ganondorf protested in alarm. "I don't want you here."

"Spare me." Link was not interested in his wishes. "Are you going to always be like this when you're drunk? Because I am telling you now, I cannot stand depressing drunks..."

"That is not it," Ganondorf crossly interrupted. He took another swig from his bottle, and murmured, "Go away. I don't wish to be bothered."

"All right."

Link, to Ganondorf's mortification, nearly turned to leave. He didn't expect Link to be so easily deterred, and before he could straighten out his thoughts, he stuttered aloud, "W-wait! Where are you going?"

Link gave him a tired look. "I'm _leaving_ as you requested."

"W-well--" Ganondorf fretted at the nonsense coming from his own mouth. "Aren't you going to pay any attention at all?"

"What gave you the impression that I _want_ to listen to your problems?"

Ganondorf had honestly thought this was a necessary trait to people who inherited this strange thing called 'sympathy.' He carried the impression that this was all people _did _in Link's world--complain about their troubles and hear out others' conundrums. Apparently Link had tired of practicing this duty, too.

Link fumed a minute, but begrudgingly gave into Ganondorf's expectation. "Fine, then."

"I had a bad day."

"I can only imagine."

"...Do you know this feeling I have?"

Link could not bring himself to reply. He was shocked by the despair and urgency that so suddenly arose in the man's voice. The man spoke as though hopelessly lost, and Link was not prepared for the possibility of having to comfort him. Link shivered as he heard the choked sobs, his mind battling the sympathy leaching into him. He did not want to feel sorry for this man. He did not want to discover the ugly, horrifically human interior that inevitably lay dormant inside of this villain.

Link fought the temptation to leave.

"This feeling... It's as though..."

Ganondorf could not summon the words and so he continued to drink, drowning his anxieties as swiftly as possible.

"Well, you see... I-I've been gone a while, and when I learned I was to come back, I thought about what I would have to face. I understood that things were going to be _different_, and I thought I was ready to return here. But I-I think I overestimated myself, because... Now nothing's the same and I can't understand it for anything." Ganondorf paused, unsure if he was making any sense. "I thought maybe you would know what I'm going on about."

Link was trying hard not to abandon him in the midst of his drunken ramblings, but as Ganondorf approached this feeling with words, Link was ensnared. These words carried a haunting familiarity to them, and he knew that this was not a mistake. Ganondorf knew that he, too, had been tossed into a world that was alien before. Link had slept for seven years and awakened to a Hyrule that was defiled and twisted. It was this familiar shock of being caught in time's relentless tide and being stranded on the shores of a foreign world.

Link swallowed hard and decided to entertain Ganondorf's perception of his character. He took in a cautious breath and walked into the room's confines, finding himself a seat at the foot of the bed. Ganondorf did not move from the wall where he rested his forehead, and continued to miserably, though elusively, blubber.

Link sighed. "Look," he began to explain, "I _do_ happen to know what you're feeling, and really, I promise it won't last long. You'll get over it. Change happens--it's very natural--and though it's all coming to you just now, you will get back into the rhythm of it."

Ganondorf was not one to be easily assured. "Things are too different," he started to whimper.

"How so?"

"The Gerudos do not..." Ganondorf could not believe what he was about to say and swallowed his drink hard. "Th-they do not want me."

"So?"

"I've been erased. I do not exist! If I am not a Gerudo, what am I? I am nothing!"

"That's silly," Link shrugged. "It seems obvious to me. If you are not Gerudo, you are still Ganondorf."

Ganondorf went into a dormant standstill, staring at the wall in a perturbed daze. "I am an ill memory. A bad dream. They have already forgotten me, and now I have nothing."

"What do you care what they think of you?" Link questioned. He never thought of Ganondorf as particularly sensitive to others' opinions of his worth.

"I knew you wouldn't understand," Ganondorf furiously retaliated. "You know nothing! They are _my people_ and I did everything only to their benefit! And now for all of my investments, they have tossed me aside."

"To _their_ benefit?" Link laughed at this ill-conceived joke. "Your tirade to take over Hyrule at the expense of your people was supposed to _help_ them?"

"Sacrifices were necessary for us to advance."

As Link realized these were serious defenses, he angrily argued in return. "That is not what I hear from them now."

"That is because all you hear from are _those two_."

"And they are far more honest than you, I dare say."

Ganondorf went quiet a while, but he was beginning to quake. He felt forsaken by these people, and shook at the prospect of losing his place. He had fought for years to retain respect and approval from a race that harbored serious doubts about his abilities. This terrible anxiousness and desperation in the face of criticism was coming back to him. He had worked for his position, and in a mere moment, he lost all of it.

It seemed incredibly unfair.

/Please... Don't carry on like this/ Link sighed in Gerudo. /It's undignified, don't you think? You wouldn't want anyone to see you like this./

Ganondorf dolefully shook his head, then hesitantly verbalized his reply. /No, I wouldn't./

/You're tired. You'll feel better after some rest./

-

Ganondorf felt a peculiar sense of comfort after this exchange, and he wasn't quite sure why. Neither did it occur to him that he should ask how Link had come across the language so beautifully--all he knew was that he had longed to converse in it, and that he was relieved to be able to exchange words in the native language he nearly lost. The Gerudos refused to speak to him in it out of spite, as another trait to their painful divorce from everything he adored, but Link was willing to engage in such chatter. A newfound horror, too, crossed him when he recalled what he had just done. He had spoken to Link in Gerudo.

He convulsed in apprehension. Gods, he _must_ be drunk to do something so trusting and intimate. He wished he had ignored Link's verses, insisted that they stay out of the language that he harbored. Gerudo was, for Ganondorf and others in his race, a _personal_ language. He felt his barred exterior that was supposed to keep others barricaded from his strict culture and identity being invaded. That a common Hylian--that _Link_--would dare to violate this privacy was appalling.

Yet Ganondorf had succumbed to it out of a sudden realization that Link was the only person willing to speak with him that way--out of desparation... Ganondorf growled at his moment of weakness.

/You idiot. You're not lonely/ he told himself.

And he was not: loneliness and aloneness, he quickly recognized, had their own nuances. He was not lonely for company. He did not need company.

But he was very, very alone, and this terrified him above all else.

* * *

Link had some time alone the next day, for which he was thankful. Ganondorf suffered a hangover and some memory loss (he remembered nothing of the previous night, or at least claimed not to), so he was firmly in bed and unwilling to leave its comfort. 

Link was especially relieved to find that Ganondorf would not have to witness the tantrum being thrown by the wife of the strange foreign man. She was muttering to herself, fretting and eying the arrival of the Gerudos with intense disdain. Once she found Link, she immediately pounced for the chance to fume in someone's presence.

"It's terrible," she growled.

"What?"

"'They' are _everywhere_."

Link cocked his head. "Excuse me... Who are 'they,' exactly?"

"Well, you know," she whispered secretively. "'Them.' The Gerudos."

Link was baffled. "You_ are_ aware this whole event is meant for them...?"

The woman made a reluctant sigh of agreement, but did not drop her attitude. "I know," she resigned, "but I thought there would just be a_ few_ of them. Now, they're everywhere... " She huffed with disgust. "They're like rats."

Link had to stand and gawk for quite a while before convincing himself to step away. He mumbled a lame excuse and sent her on her way, fetching a drink and looking for Zelda. At least she would distract him from the burning cloud of emotion that was dawning upon him.

Link was, though Ganondorf had not learned it yet, a part of the Gerudo tribe. It was not through race or blood, of course, but Link had brushes with Malati and Nabooru during his initial adventure. The two were high enough in the hierarchy for Link to make a comfortable place for himself. To have a sort of home, after all, was nice when Link was unable to return to the Kokiri tribe. He couldn't stay with the Kokiri forever, and Link was happy to have a piece of the world to settle into. The Gerudos as a whole grew more accepting of his presence over time, but even when they weren't so welcoming, Malati and Nabooru were always good company. He had spent so much of his life in that desert, with those women, that he knew the language and culture inside out, and at times, he felt himself forgetting the tribe from which he came. To move from forest to desert was no easy task, but Link felt in himself a natural ease in the solitude of the sand dunes. It was as though _that_ was where he really belonged.

Link was so thoroughly cultually converted that he would at times forget who he was, and in those moments, he felt truly happy. He was never content with the person he was, and so the desert provided means to hide himself and pretend to be someone else. Link had buried everything in the desolation of the Gerudo's land--his identity, his place, his tribe, his race, and his memories were instantly forsaken upon his integration with the desert people.

But Link had moved on since then.

He reminded himself that the woman simply didn't know who he was, and couldn't possibly understand how offended he was by her words.

-

The Gerudo women found him first, and Nabooru ushered him to the side.

"Link, we have something for you." Nabooru handed a small pouch.

"What is this?" Link rounded his fingers over the small pocket of cloth, feeling the distinct sharpness of rupees.

Nabooru and Malati remained cold as Nabooru explained, "It is compensation."

"For what?" Link asked.

"We understand that having Ganondorf's company is not your choice. We have decided to give you some things to ease the burden of supporting him."

"How much is it?"

"One thousand rupees should do you well for now," Nabooru told him.

Link looked shocked. "Oh, no, that's far too much--"

"Link," Malati interrupted patiently. "Bring _him_ back here, and to our corridors. You are going to require some planning and supplies."

"You're going to help me?"

"Of course," Malati scoffed. "And why wouldn't we?"

"I assumed you would... Distance yourself." Link's face was nearly twinged with worry, but it was well disguised. "You see... He was not happy last night."

"This has nothing to do with him," Malati sternly clarified. "We are doing this for you."

* * *

"You want me to _what_?" 

"Aye, calm down--"

The meeting was quickly going downhill upon Link's abrupt suggestion. The Gerudo women had thus far made few contributions, for Link had clearly been thinking through his plans in his spare time.

"You're taking whatever Din told you far too seriously," Ganondorf accused irately. "I told you this before: I am not your slave."

"I'm not saying you are," Link sighed. "Could I just explain this to you?"

Ganondorf sat back and folded his arms crossly.

"Look... Tomorrow, we head northwest. There are several villages out in that direction, and we'll likely be stopping at a few of them. The last thing either of us will need is for the village to recognize you. If you come as a traveling partner, people are going to pay attention to you, ask questions about you--you are going to induce curiosity. But, if you come as a _servant_ instead--"

Ganondorf huffed. He could not believe this was happening to him.

Link anxiously finished his idea before Ganondorf could blow it off completely. "--People won't bother you! They never mind where servants come from; they mostly ignore them completely! I know you aren't looking forward to interrogations, so in this way, you would be just as good as invisible."

"Won't people think it's a little stange for you to have a servant twice your own size?" Ganondorf skeptically inquired.

"If you cooperate, in certain respects, I may be able to make it more believeable for them."

Ganondorf was still largely unmoved by Link's logic.

Link pleadingly urged, "It won't be bad."

Ganondorf did not know how to respond to this situation at all. Link had been trying to convince him that playing the part of a slave would benefit him in their travels, and though Ganondorf understood his points, there was a grave reluctance to go through with it. Ganondorf had already grown disconcerted by the amount of pride he had to forfeit, and pretending to be a slave was approaching humiliation. Ganondorf was ready to fight this option off to the death, but there was an annoying part of him that was willing to give in. He did not want to do it, but there was great incentive to admit defeat and go along with the plan, for, as Ganondorf began to realize, he was too exhausted to bother fighting it. He was tired of struggling against the inevitable and the inane, and as his energy expired, he became more flexible.

Ganondorf's mind and body were both suffering from an acute exhaustion he never knew before, and this fatigue was making him increasingly unwilling to resist. With a jaded grumble, Ganondorf submitted his decision-making, accepting that for now, a dose of humility would save him some trouble.

Ganondorf irritably scratched his head. "Whatever," he finally responded listlessly.

Link sighed with relief. "All right, then. That's settled."

Ganondorf did not pay much attention to the rest of the meeting. The three were discussing tomorrow's journey, and he did not care for travel-speak. He spent his time staring into the nearby fire, lazily admiring the flames and their eternal dance. He nearly dozed off and did not hear the two Gerudo women tell him they had found some clothing that he would be able to use. He sleepily nodded in response to their talking before he knew what was going on.

They continued speaking for a bit, and he felt everything tune out as he leaned into his hand and distantly gazed into the fireplace. Resting felt wonderful, and for a mere second, he had fallen asleep in the chair.

Nabooru had, however, walked to his back and withdrawn a knife. When the knife made its move, he jerked awake in shock, and after a moment turned around to see her wielding the hanful of his hair. He was at first baffled by her erratic assault, but she smiled and patted him on the shoulder as he ogled her.

"Congratulations," she smirked, waving the sliced chunk of hair in her hand and ruffling the now short tuft of red hair on his head. "You're a Hylian slave."

The three chatted by the fire, and Nabooru continued wittling away at his locks with the blunt blade. They conversed while she groomed him, speaking of him as though he were a piece of furniture, but he was too tired to mind it. They were merely preparing him for the part, though he got the sense that they were enjoying it too much.

Before the two women sent them off with clothing and supplies, Nabooru made the final touch--the sure mark of an indentured servant: two braids, parallel along his left temple.

Link was warbling on the way back, happily recounting the items they received. "At last, you seem to be showing some value," he joked, giving his pouch of rupees a playful toss in the air. "It was really about time, after all this trouble..."

Ganondorf was becoming increasingly apathetic--so apathetic that he almost didn't notice that a woman came out of nowhere and was screaming in Link's direction. Fortunately, Ganondorf was cloaked as they were walking into the alleyway, so even when the woman approached, she did not happen to see the Gerudo man.

"Link, is that you?"

She unleashed a merciless squeal of joy and before Ganondorf could blink, she was dangling by Link's neck.

"I haven't seen you in so long!" she exclaimed, embracing him and laughing with joy.

Ganondorf was about to turn and ignore the exchange, but something about their interaction dispelled his initial disregard. There were a few things that came across as odd: for one thing, the woman was taller and clearly older than Link, and though the difference was not significant, it still warped the perception of their relationship. The woman, as well, was _too_ pretty--the degree of her beauty quickly disconcerted him.

Ganondorf also recognized a familiar response he had seen in men, when such men were responding to a certain type of woman. Link did not smile or reach for her, even as she kissed him and spoke fondly of him. Ganondorf recognized this attitude indeed, and the implications were eyebrow-raising.

"I've been gone a while," Link answered her quietly.

"How long have you been here? Why haven't you tried to contact me?" she pouted.

Link knew he had an audience, so he tried to move things along as fast as he could. He patiently removed her arms from his neck. "I've been a bit busy. I can probably see you tonight, though. Will you be around?"

The woman smiled broadly. "Of course. I'll be at the bar--maybe we can have a few drinks, if it isn't a problem."

Link tried to act natural, but was clearly trying to keep her from saying anything too incriminating. "All right," he insistently concluded.

After the woman parted, Ganondorf wondered whether he should speak. His will to resist the temptation was weak. "Who was _that_?" he asked, though he already knew.

"None of your business."

"Don't think I don't know," Ganon clucked. "I didn't know you liked older women."

"She's a _friend_," Link steamed. "I _know_ her, all right? It's not like that."

Something dormant in the Gerudo clicked, and immediately, Ganondorf had ceased teasing and began to attack. The amusement had vanished, and now he wallowed in sourness "A wonderful 'friend,' I'm sure," Ganon mused bitterly, under his breath.

"What are you implying?"

"What do you _think_ I'm implying?"

Link threw up his hands in defeat. "Why are you on the offensive all of the sudden? Are you mad at me? Have I done something?"

"I'm not mad at you," Ganondorf lamely replied.

"You _sound_ mad."

"I'm not."

"Is this a subject you get touchy about?"

"Let's not."

"Do you want to know if I'm sleeping with her?" Link finally asked upfront.

Ganondorf let out a heavy sigh and decided to break it to him. "Link," he consoled, "if you were actually trying to _conceal_ the fact that you are doing so, I must tell you, you did a _very _poor job of it."

Link looked shocked and missed the wryness of Ganondorf's observation completely. "...Really?"

Ganondorf mournfully shook his head started to walk. Link followed behind.

"It's... That obvious?"

Ganondorf still wouldn't reply, he was so bereaved by the boy's ignorance. Link got more anxious as the silence continued.

"How can you tell?"

"You were treating her like garbage," Ganondorf explained simply. "Men _always_ treat the women they're sleeping with like garbage."

Though Ganondorf was being excessively cynical, he believed it wholeheartedly. Link mistakenly thought he had reverted back to humor. He laughed and fit the strap of his pack firmly at his shoulder. "Gods, you're such a virgin."

"I had a harem, you know," Ganondorf hastily corrected, taking the insult a bit too seriously. Fortunately, however, Link was no longer listening and did not notice Ganondorf's desperation.

* * *

Ganondorf bolted upright with a shocked cry of pain. 

He reeled, spun around, gasping at the sting blossoming in his left eye. He wasn't sure where he was for a moment, and in dealing with the pain, he tried to realign his thoughts again.

Ganondorf had gone back to his bed again in hopes of getting some sleep for the travel that would happen the next day. His sleep was rudely interrupted by the blow to the face that he couldn't immediately identify.

Then, Ganondorf remembered that Link's pain was his own. He groaned and uselessly nursed his face. Clearly, Link's night had not finished. Ganondorf stifled some unkind words, rolled out of bed, and hit the floor with his usual lack of grace.

Ganondorf wondered what had come over Link these days, and lamented over his behavior as though he knew the boy his whole life. Link had apparently forgotten their connection and gone off to do something reckless, without regard for Ganondorf's suffering. He guessed it was a stern punch in the eye--he was not totally unfamiliar with such blows--and absently wondered whether his eye was going to share in Link's swelling as well. He winced, huffed, and decided that he shoud think about something else.

Unfortunately, there was little to think about. He was almost thankful for the familiar peck at the window.

"What, so you're here to bother me again?" he mumbled as he got back up onto his feet. "I should have known you would revive." The situation had become so normal that he spoke as if talking to an old (albeit pestering) friend. To his disappointment, as he approached the window, the crow fled. He realized, however, that this was to be expected after he had killed the last one. Whatever was sending the creatures was relentless in trying to earn his attention.

Ganondorf turned back to his bed once the crow flew away, but stopped short and emitted a stunted yelp of surprise.

There was a woman sitting on his bed--a woman who was, of all things, _very_ much separated from her clothes. The woman was ogling him expectantly, sheets sprawled beneath her bare legs, head cocked like a critter with a piqued interest. Her eyes were so hideous and attentive that he had to look away and frantically recollect his thoughts.

He reviewed himself carefully between bewildered gasps. He didn't feel drunk, and he did not remember getting drunk. Neither did he recall feeling her in bed. Where did she come from?

"Who--do I---did we--?"

The woman just smiled. He didn't feel any physical evidence that he had done anything, and neither did he see anything in her. He allowed a tentative sigh of relief and pondered whether to get any closer. As the situation sat, he had no desire to get any nearer to the woman than he had to. Rather, he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room.

Her eyelids fluttered low over her dark eyes, a wicked smile crossing her face, dark hair curled about her ivory flesh. She laughed shallowly and spoke in a suspiciously sultry tone. "Do you_ really_ think he will forgive you?"

Ganondorf blinked and knew that this voice was the same one he had heard in his head. He was certain that this did not bode well. "--What exactly are you talking about?"

She smugly crossed her legs over the bed. "Do you think because you cut your hair and willingly humiliated yourself, that he will be kind to you?"

"I tell you what--_that_ I never really gave a thought to."

"You're a liar. You're doing this to impress him. You want to show him that you can be just like him."

Ganondorf was getting weary of this being's constant and bizarre accusations. "That's possibly the most ridiculous thing I've heard. I'm doing this so I won't get killed."

"He is not going to forgive you," she told him. "He's only kind to you now because he's afraid of being naked in front of his companions."

The woman had lost him at the mention of nakedness, so she rolled her eyes and restated her case.

"_He doesn't want them to see who he really is_."

"Oh." Ganondorf was glad that the woman, though obviously malevolent in her intentions, had taken the time to clarify _that_ statement.

"He hates you; do you know that?"

"Of course I do."

"No you don't. You keep thinking he's growing onto you. You are--he's not."

Ganondorf spat. "You seem stuck on this idea that he and I are a good couple."

The woman responded by bursting into laughter. "Hardly," she snickered. "If such a thing were attempted, he would kill you quite quickly. He's very personal about his hatred. It's part of who he is."

"And who _is _he, if you don't mind me asking?"

The smile on her face vanished, and a distinct shiver traveled up his spine as he watched her expression turn to a distant, looming dread. "He is..." She paused, breathed in sharply, and dug her fingers into the sheets. "Everything that makes you afraid."

Her words paralyzed him for a full minute before a set of feet loudly fumbled outside and the door was swung open. Ganondorf jumped at the clatter, and for a second, he let his eyes stray from the woman to see what was happening.

Link crashed through the doorway, bellowing cheerfully, "Hey, you old slug! Get over here!"

Ganondorf saw that Link was drunk, and so he turned back to the bed. There was no one to be found, however. The woman had disappeared.

Link repeated himself crossly. "Did you hear me, sir? Come along! I have a gift."

Ganondorf remorsefully shook his head and gave into the order. He saw that Link's eye was bruised, and the sting at his own face reawakened. As Link happily rummaged through his things, Ganondorf bitterly badgered him, "You got hurt."

"Hmm?"

"Your eye."

"Oh, that?" Link sounded amused by Ganondorf's seriousness. "Oh, come on--what'd you expect? I went to bar. It's no tea party. I got in a tussle, that's all."

"_Why_?" Ganon asked in exasperation.

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

Ganondorf suddenly felt as though he was in the presence of some sort of savage, uncivilized tribe._ Men,_ he relented."Did you happen to forget that it _hurts_?"

"What?" It took Link some time to comprehend his meaning. Ganondorf didn't know that Link was one to drink so heavily, but he might as well have suspected it. Link had been in the army, after all. After Link overcame the alcohol's fog, a faint light of understanding emerged. "_Oh_. Right. Forgot about that quirk... But it isn't that bad, is it? It nary hurts but a tickle--"

"May I remind you: _you are drunk and I am not_."

Link snorted. "Well, I can fix _that_." Link revealed the bottles of liquor he had stowed. "Just promise me you won't be depressing like you were last night."

They began to drink together, and although the gesture was a bit out of place considering their relationship, Ganondorf was just glad that he didn't have to deal with hallucinations for the moment.

"--Wait, what do you mean 'last night'?"

* * *

Ganondorf could not stop thinking about the woman's words as they drinked together. Ganondorf was not surprised or disturbed by the notion that Link hated him. This was to be expected--indeed, if it were different, he would be worried. This made things more complex in the end, however. It was Link's character to veil his hatred and play this facade of tolerance. Link was to hate, but not to show it. 

But was Link to be _feared?_ Obviously, the woman believed so. Ganondorf couldn't understand why. Link seemed harmless enough, though at times a bit rough around the edges. Even in his worst mood, though, he didn't seem capable of real cruelty. He was Link, after all--it wasn't a part of his character to be wicked.

Ganondorf wondered absently if he was placing too much value into this system of characterization. Link was supposed to be a number of things, for he played a part in a grand legend. Ganondorf was wary of these roles and places, and it was the only law he recognized. The villain and the hero and the ways they interact were sacraments to him.

Link was humming joyfully and opening another bottle of liquor. Ganondorf was getting irritated with the ease in which Link was breaking this sacrament. Drinking together, though a friendly gesture, was an act of comradeship. Why was Link so willing to engage in this? Link had been avoiding the even graver sin of eating with him, for eating together was one of the most intimate of social institutions, reserved for family, the married, and the deepest of friends or respected acquaintances. Ganondorf did not expect Link to eat with him. But why was Link comfortable exchanging drinks?

Ganondorf gave up these thoughts in exchange for the luxury of casual conversation.

Under the influence of alcohol, neither of them held back nor concentrated on the inanities of their hatred for each other. Instead, they dwelled on the plain things--although, as they soon realized, this topic ran dry quickly. The two did not have normal lives, and it was difficult to speak on anything without intermingling their fateful clash.

The two were getting more comfortable. They may have not been friends, and they were both aware that such a thing was and always would be impossible. But despite this fate, they had another acute awareness: they both silently pondered whether, in a different world and time, friendship would have been possible. They spoke freely as the alcohol swelled in their heads, and found themselves connecting in unexpected ways. They were more similar than they would have liked to admit.

For all of their work to fight against each other, they were both stubborn, cynical, and worn down.

Ganondorf rediscovered a question in his head and decided that it was an opportune moment to ask. "So, are you going to tell me how you blinded yourself or not?"

Link did not respond for a moment, taking another swig of his ale and mulling over the possibilities. Before Ganondorf could ask again, Link laughed to himself. "It was so..." He paused and snorted. "Ridiculous."

"What was?"

Link disregarded the question and softly snickered. "I was in the war, back then. I went to bed just fine, I'll have you know, but that morning... I woke up and couldn't see a thing. I wasn't scared or confused or angry--it made so much sense to me then. I woke up and felt _everything that had made me miserable_ vanish: I woke up blind and I just laid there and smiled. It was like a burden had been lifted, and I couldn't have been more thrilled. People acted sorry towards me when they found out--they had pity on me and believed it was a terrible tragedy, but I knew the truth. I felt relieved. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was complete."

The words rolled senselessly inside Ganondorf's head and he subconsciously shivered. "Why?"

"I realized that I was pretending to be someone I wasn't. That's when I realized I wasn't the Hero."

"You speak of it like a blessing."

"Senses are what make us feel pain, Ganondorf," Link explained dispassionately. "If you can't feel anything, you can't be hurt."

"You're _that_ terrified of seeing?"

Link did not respond and simply became lost in his drinking.

After a few hours, Ganondorf became weary of his company, and Link was reaching the point at which he couldn't drink anymore. Ganondorf thought that the visit would only last an hour, but the chances of Link leaving grew slimmer. The prospect was not good.

"Aren't you going back to the castle?" Ganondorf questioned desperately.

"What, like this?" Link pointed to his bruised face, and in general, his drunken demeanor. "And make the Princess throw a fit? No good at all."

Ganondorf didn't understand. "But... Where are going, then?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"_This is my room_."

Link scoffed and disregarded the defensiveness in Ganondorf's tone. "And I paid for it. Your point?"

"There's only one bed."

"You can sleep on the floor."

"I could, but I'm not going to."

"Well then." Link smirked at the man's attempts to bicker. "If you want to sleep with me _that_ badly, come out and say it."

"Not _everybody_ wants to sleep with you," Ganondorf snarled in return.

Link was startled by the ferocity in his voice and spoke gently in Gerudo. /Calm down. I was kidding./

/You conceited--/

Link interrupted swiftly and pretended not to hear his complaint. "Honestly, in the war, I've bunked with other men--"

Ganondorf was brooding suddenly, and before he could stop himself, he blurted aloud his worry. /Are you sleeping with Nabooru/

Link stopped and stared at him. /What/

/You're friends with her./

Link sputtered. /I've never touched her. She's my captain./

/I'm glad./

/Do you like her/ Link asked.

Ganondorf spat dismissively. /No. Never did. In fact, I always hated her. How about Malati? Have you bedded her yet/

/I don't have to talk to you about this/ Link objected.

/So you did./

/I didn't say that. I'm saying that you need to shut your mouth./

/Whatever./

Link grimaced and shook his head in his direction. /You sure act funny when you're drunk./

/That's the idea, isn't it/

In the end, Ganondorf forgot about the argument and they were both too drunk to care.

-

They were lying on the bed, backs turned to each other, dozing silently. There was an occasional toss or turn, but otherwise they were sound.

Ganondorf's mind was wandering, and as he lay on his side, his eyes strayed to the back of his hands. He didn't notice anything upon his first glance, but a thought emerged. He stared and stared, but for all of his effort, he couldn't see evidence of his Triforce reacting to Link's presence.

Ganondorf spoke aloud, flatly noting, "My Triforce is not resonating."

"What of it?" Link asked irritably, shuffling from grogginess.

Ganondorf continued to stare emptily at the back of his hand. "Shouldn't it be reacting to your Triforce of Courage?"

For a moment, Link chose not to respond, and they both lay silent.

"Link?" Ganon goaded.

"Is it really that hard to figure out?" Link asked, letting in a sleepy breath of air and turning over in his doze. After receiving no answer, Link sighed and explained, "I don't have the Triforce anymore."

Ganondorf immediately sat upright. "W-what?"

"Lay down; relax; get some sleep," Link demanded wearily. "It is not important."

"It's... It's _very_ important!" Ganondorf sputtered. He couldn't believe this, and could especially not accept Link's resignation to this horrible fate. "How can one simply _lose--_"

"For once in your life, use common logic," Link grumpily snarled, apparently not in the mood for the topic. The boy winced at the pains racking his temple.

Ganondorf, defeated, laid down onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. The alcohol was clogging his normal thought processes, so it took several more minutes than it normally would have to come to his conclusion. "The Triforce left you?"

"Best thing that ever happened to me," Link droned. "When I went to war, I had to leave Hyrule's borders. They day I woke up blind... I realized the Triforce left, too. The elements that defined me vanished with all of my courage."

"You became a coward?"

"In more ways than one," Link nodded sleepily. "Now please, stop--we both need our sleep."

Ganondorf couldn't resolve these rapid thoughts in his mind, because logically, his worries made no sense. Link had lost the Triforce, but this should be an advantage for him, not a thing to mull over in agitation. At the same time, however, Ganondorf could not abandon this feeling that the world had gone terribly awry, and that he wanted it to be normal. His existence had been comfortably formulaic for years--he had fought Link, attempted to take over Hyrule, kidnapped Zelda to bait the boy...

He had, despite its inevitable destination of failure, grown fond of this pattern and wanted to continue it. It was fantastic fairy tale, a drama, a story like the old legends he had read when he was young. It had a hero, a villain, a princess, a forsaken land, a forgotten magic. And although Ganondorf did not understand these things, something in his wicked, empty head desired it. He wanted this to go on, but now that he had woken up, he found the story was not going as it was supposed to.

He stared at Link intensely for a moment as the boy slept, trying to sort these thoughts and feelings, but was unable to reach any conclusions. The boy was supposed to be the Hero, but this broken, blind, frustrated man could not be the Hero. He was startled upon realizing that he had not seen Link at all--this was a stranger to him. He had only seen faint glimpses of the Hero, only to watch them crowded out by this boy's impatience and anger.

If this boy was not the Hero, did he hate him? Ganondorf shook. He had felt his grasp on hating the boy slip as of late, and it worried him. He had always maintained a balance of his hate and admiration--both hating and admiring the talents so deeply ingrained in this boy. But now...

Ganondorf wanted to things to be as they once were very suddenly and passionately. He did not like these progressions--he did not like these changes, even though these changes were destroying his enemy. With a drunken tremor, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling again, hoping to sleep, hoping to forget he had ever thought about this. Even in the midst of his drowsiness, his eyebrows stitched.

Ganondorf's disquieted mind was deeply confused.

* * *

Ganondorf woke up with a start, his sleep rudely interrupted by a scream of anger. He twisted, momentarily forgetting where he was, and was unable to identify what creature was unleashing such a terrible cry. 

"You bastard!"

Ganondorf sat up, cleared his head with a moment's stillness, then recognized the voice. He squinted in the dark--it was late and the night was deep. He could barely see anything but a faint glitter of gold. Whether it was Link's hair or jewelry, he couldn't tell, but he knew the color and its owner.

"Link?" he queried hesitantly, groping the dark uselessly. He couldn't tell what was happening to the boy.

Link was breathing hard, hissing like an enraged serpent, and shouting foully at the top of his lungs. "You bastard! What did you do to her? _YOU BASTARD!_"

"Link, what are you--"

Ganondorf was quickly shot down by a barrage of ear-splitting threats and curses. He groaned, his hands finding Link sitting up in bed, hyperventilating and shaking. His eyes were wide open, glossy with fear. Ganondorf relaxed once he realized what was happening. Link was having a night terror.

"Boy, wake up," he impatiently prodded, shaking the boy sternly. It did not phase him, and the shrieking continued. Ganondorf couldn't let this go on much longer, lest someone overhear it.

But with a choke and tense whimper, Link went silent on his own accord. Ganondorf thought he might lay down now that the tantrum was over, but instead Link stared out into nothing, frozen still. Ganondorf tried to push him, but found Link utterly paralyzed. His body was stiff, shaking, and murmuring.

Ganondorf was so tired that he didn't want to deal with this emerging panic attack, so he decided to let it alone and go back to sleep. He absently wondered who Link was scolding so harshly in his dream, but he swiftly forgot about it.

* * *

_Oh goddesses._

_What did you do?_

_What happened to her?_

_You bastard, what did you do?_

_There's so much blood._

_

* * *

_

Maybe it was the hangover, but Ganondorf made a vow the next morning as they packed their things. He stood close to his horse's narrow face, feeling its warmth breath against the new clothes at his chest. He had shed the uncomfortable warrior garb--he figured he would not need it. He did not expect to be fighting.

Everything was irritating, noisy, and grating against his sensitive mind. He drank water in an attempt to wash out the stale aftertaste of alcohol, but to little avail. And among these discombobulating conditions and symptoms, he made a strange promise to himself. It was something he never thought he would consent to, but as the warnings had come, he believed it was necessary.

If he hoped to live, he would have to blindly follow every of Link's commands. Link knew more about this world than he did, and Link also had other potencies (the ability to destroy him being one of them). So, with no other reasonable choice, Ganondorf decided to make his place beneath the enemy's wing. There were worse places to be. Without means to protect himself, he needed a trustworthy ally, and in Hyrule, Ganondorf knew his chances of finding another willing person were slim.

If he could subdue and calm this new master, as he would need to, he would not have to face this master's apparently newfound rage. Link was not a safe master, but Ganondorf knew that he was also a capable one.

The air was fresh that morning, and despite his illness, he felt good to be free of the city's restraints. They hadn't left the town quite yet, but the buildings grew less intimidating and influential. The sheer aesthetics of the stone barriers and towers disappeared, overcome by the soulful beauty that faintly rang out in the horizon.

Link was uttering requests, and according to his vow, Ganondorf obeyed silently and swiftly. Link was pleasantly surprised by this arising trait. "You're strangely compliant today," he noted. "Is there something you want?"

Ganondorf tried not to be offended by Link's assumption that he was trying to garner a favor. "No."

"Very well, then," Link sighed. "Is there anything else you need before we leave?"

Ganondorf had nothing of value to begin with, and told Link so. The Gerudo women hovered briefly over them, but the visit was short, and so the journey begun, with no certainty as to what they would meet.

"If you don't mind me asking: where are we going?"

Link gave him an impatient look. "Weren't you listening the other night?"

"Honestly? No."

"You should really pay attention," Link scolded crossly. "You'll be guiding me, after all. Do you remember the path you found me on?"

"Yes."

"We're re-tracing in that direction, mostly. Northwest of here, after a several day's worth of traveling, there's a village where I've been living. I don't know why Din gave you to me, but until we figure out what to do with you, I assume we just head there for now."

This seemed practical. He didn't question it and let the sweet scent of grass overwhelm his senses.

* * *

Ganondorf found Link sleepwalking that night, and he watched as Link dozed and trekked about, murmuring under his breath in a senseless tongue. Ganondorf recalled that first night they met, and the fear he felt upon seeing Link stand over him in the night. 

Now, he understood the drifting that had occurred. Link was not contemplating his death--he was merely a wanderer in the evening, a person with a body and soul too disturbed to lie still in his rest. There were whispers passing Link's sleeping lips of men's drained faces and the meaningless slaughter of life. At times, Link sounded humorous, but these moments were overpowered by the gruesome swears and recollections of war.

Ganondorf was personally having a difficulty understanding Link's war trauma. The very concept of trauma was somewhat alien to him. Ganondorf had seen violence and death, and probably committed worse acts than the things Link merely had to witness, yet he did not have night terrors, panic attacks, or walk about in his sleep. The idea that war could terrify a soul, that it could permanently scar it, made no sense to him. He thought that even the most disturbing of experiences could be shrugged off. Ganondorf did so with most of his unpleasant memories, and he didn't understand Link's inability to do the same.

Unfairly perhaps, Ganondorf felt weary with Link's trauma. He wanted Link to drop it, get over it, and stop irritating him with the symptoms. If Link would only _forget_ it, then Ganondorf was sure the situation would solve itself. Yet, the more sympathetic part of him tried to hold onto what he knew was the truth: it was not that simple.

The morning did not provide Ganondorf with any ease of mind. Link had ceased being benevolent and now took it upon himself to harass Ganon. The Gerudo, reminding himself of his personal vow, had to work even harder to hold back his tongue, and Link was making it increasingly difficult.

Link had no peers to impress, and so he forgot civilized conversation and barraged his new servant with his difficulties. The nightmares and trauma had only made Link more irritable and strained than usual, and in contradiction to normal social operations, he turned all of his troubles into personal attacks. He didn't complain about the deaths he witnessed--he instead incessantly complained about Ganondorf's lack of energy. No, it was not the fact that the war had stolen Link's childhood that made him the frustrated wretch he was--it was the fact that Ganondorf couldn't pick up the pace. Everything was Ganondorf's fault, and Link was sure to remind him of this every mile or so.

Ganondorf drowned what he could in the refreshing simmer that was the evergreen forest. The sunlight overhead gave the horizon an illusion of life, and accompanied with the quiet stirs of wind and birds, the woods dampened their tempers for the time being.

Ganondorf paused occasionally throughout the journey, but on the second day of travel at the peak of humidity, he broke out into a treacherous sweat and had to sit down. His blood steamed and trickled down his face like boiling sap, and his vision grew hazy.

After Ganon panted like a dog a good while, Link feigned concern and piped up. "Are you alright?"

The Gerudo huffed between breaths. "I'm... Fine..."

"You have so little stamina," Link accused for the umpteenth time.

Ganondorf did not have the energy to be offended and continued to gasp. "I'm not... As young... As you are..."

Link reluctantly agreed to this logic and fidgeted impatiently as he waited for Ganondorf to recover. Link got down from the horse after the wait seemed more imminent, and searched his belt for his flask of water. He found the perspiring leather pouch, also seeming to sweat from the unbearable heat, and held it above his head. With a measured dip, he allowed water to spill through the nozzle and into his mouth.

Ganondorf, watching this display, suddenly realized he was _very_ thirsty. He longingly stared at, though did not dare ask for, the water dripping down the boy's chin in silver threads. He depended on Link's intuition to receive a drink, and luckily, Link was prepared. "Do you need some water?" he questioned. He walked over to Ganon's side, even before Ganon could reply. "Are you very hot?"

"Yes," Ganon answered, wondering why Link found it useful to get so close.

Link held the flask in his hands, turning his head slightly. "Where are you sitting?" he tested, inching the flask from his hands to imply he was to hand it over.

Ganondorf tapped his fingers and instructed him, "Right in front of you--"

Perhaps it was the density of Ganondorf's head that deafened his intuition, and that was why he didn't see it coming, but whatever the case, Link tossed the flask's contents into his face and Ganondorf burned and swore in response.

"_What are you doing?_" he sputtered, standing on his feet, cursing violently and wiping the dripping substance from his face. He coughed and eyed Link as though he must have gone mad.

Link was laughing at him, knowing that the man was merely the victim of a harmless prank, and furthermore a victim of Link's incapacity to realize some were not fortunate enough to have his sense of humor. "Aye, you feel better, don't you?"

Ganondorf was so appalled and embarrassed by the attack that he tried to save face by uttering the foulest Gerudo oaths he could, but this only made Link laugh harder. Ganondorf hadn't dealt with such a blatant assault on his dignity before, and so he was at a loss as to how to make the matter end. Without physical intimidation at his side, he could only helplessly berate his attacker, and just his luck, the attacker found his only resource of intimidation a joke.

"Why are you so flustered?" Link stabbed at him.

"_I'm not flustered!_" the man retorted, narrowly avoiding the inclination to scream. "G-gods, just give that to me--!"

Still soaked and fuming, Ganondorf tore the flask from Link's grasp and threw it to the ground. Link just raised an eyebrow as Ganondorf steamed past him. "Um... Overreacting, much, sir?"

"You're wasting water," Ganon lamely scolded, but by now his footsteps were growing faint.

"How am I _wasting water_? We're not in the desert; I can just refill it downhill here--"

Link realized Ganondorf was not listening, and paused to hear the Gerudo's foul words drifting away.

"Sir, where are you going?" Link yelled out, but to no avail. Ganondorf had lumbered off elsewhere in a disgruntled, unmanageable fit. Link puzzled over the fact that a toss of water had just toppled the Dark King. Like a tongue of flame kissed by a passing breeze, Ganondorf had petered out, and Link couldn't understand why.

Truth be told, there was a good deal contributing to Ganondorf's upset. His head buzzed furiously as he tried to counter the absurdity of his reaction with reason. He was tired, disrespected, and thirsty, and the water he had looked forward to intaking was instead spilled over him. It was an unfair taunting, he thought, that Link raised his hopes and then dashed them with a childish joke. It was strange that Link, who was in all honestly meaning no harm, was so easily perceived as a cruel, boorish predator who was happy to torture him.

Ganondorf was not one to appreciate such games, especially at his expense. He usually cloistered to keep himself safe from embarrassment, but now--gods, he _hated _the feeling, the feeling of not being given respect and being mocked. There was no cure for jeering, no cure for the debasement he felt at hearing it.

Ganondorf was panicked, ashamed of the ease in which he was taken advantage of and defeated, and these frustrations and fears gave way to anger.

_Bite; bite like a cornered rat pursued by a hunter--_

"Ganon--"

Link had found him, but only by chasing the shudders of leaves beneath the man's stormy feet. Ganondorf disregarded the dishonest pleas for forgiveness: they sounded raw and unshaped, as Link did not understand what he had offended and the apology came off as a facade. Link still chuckled beneath his breath, his voice not able to hide his lack of seriousness. Link thought the man was being silly, and no disguising of his voice could conceal this sentiment.

"Oh, _come on_, I didn't mean anything by it--"

"Leave me alone."

Ganondorf nearly stumbled in his blindness to where he was going, and glanced to the left of him. He found his foot hobbling on a loose boulder impressed into the mossy soil, and he discovered that where he headed opened up to a field of similarly-shaped and positioned stones. The earth dipped into a shallow valley alongside a cliff, with an endless landscape of talus and rock. The basin of the cliff was a field of sharp shards of pearly-gray stones. The chips provided a wobbly, uncertain, but useful means to lose Link. Ganondorf set out immediately to trace across the large, open field, and listened as Link struggled to do the same. The rocks would falter and cave in if not properly stood upon, for many were slate-shaped and lying on their edge, held in place only by the moist dirt beneath them. Their trekking made the noises of marble and glass shifting underfoot, and Link huffed in frustration. The terrain was confusing and shattered into pieces--he couldn't determine where it was safe to step without danger of slipping, and no stick or cane would make any sense of the hundreds of shards in front of him. Even Ganondorf did not experience particular ease in judging the firmness of the stones.

"Why do you have to be so disagreeable?" Link complained, making another agonizing step and testing its strength.

Ganondorf snorted, stopped, then turned on the boy. It was time to bite back. "You know, I'm curious as to what exactly you saw that makes you cry out in your sleep."

Link's steps ceased.

The poison in Ganon's voice gathered sharply. "So? Are you going to tell me?"

A darkness was glinting in Link's eyes now, a cloud that normally would have scared Ganondorf off, but now it didn't move him an inch. "That isn't any of your business," Link growled.

Ganondorf stepped closer, reveling in his chance to look down on the boy with an advantage on hand. He grinned sadistically, but anger still seethed in his heart, an anger that possessed him and deafened all of his instincts. "You know what I think? You see, I heard you crying out the other night--you were calling someone a 'bastard.' Who's the bastard, Link?"

Though Link was surprised that Ganondorf had overheard such sensitive information, his shock was quickly overcome by fury. Link's voice grew hushed and sour, so that his comment could not be mistaken for anything but a warning. "Do _not_ test me."

"--You want to know my theory?" Ganondorf continued to barrage, smiling in his face, polishing his ego with the articulate harm he was causing. "I think you killed a girl and now you can't forgive yourself for it--_you're _the bastard, aren't you? Is that why you're so contemptuous all the time--?"

Their squabbles had, so far, been infantile and petty. They had shot insults here and there, but nothing had ever seriously inflamed any adult vengeance. But Link had abruptly abandoned the realm of childish bickering, and Ganondorf was not prepared for it.

Link had taken up Ganondorf's right arm--he had pounced like a cat, fingers gripping the limb like an earned prize. "The last time I had your arm," he hissed dangerously, "I was generous and did not break it."

This generosity ended, and even after his arm was shattered, it seemed that Link, too, had tired of his traveling partner. The pain spell triggered without warning, and Ganondorf narrowly escaped biting his tongue cleanly off. The pain was acute, and once it began to pierce his nerves, it wouldn't stop. He collapsed to the ground, coughing in his fierce shock and sudden terror. He was unable to move, paralyzed with the fiery pain and an unearthly chill of fear. Only a moment ago, this creature was a meek and playful lamb, and now--now--

_Oh gods, he's going to kill me._

He trembled, tried to speak, but the overwhelming stabs of agony stole his air and tightened his throat. He could only make an empty, desperate gasp for mercy and release.

There were things Link could not tolerate, things that would only induce his worst temper, things that he only responded to through violence. Dusting up malicious memories was one of these crimes. Ganondorf had stirred awake the instincts that Link had neglected for ages, and in a sudden fervor at being reminded of this savage thirst, the ferocity Link depended on in battle boiled over once again.

Link did not verbalize anything beyond a confused order to "not speak that way" to him, and then there was only pain. His mercy had been spent. A flash of silver revealed Link's very serious intent to destroy him, but the resulting wound was due to sloppy aim. The knife buried into the Gerudo's shoulder, and pinned him still, forcing him to meet the basin of rubble. The blade was withdrawn, but his destroyer knew that the wound only worked to immobilize him.

Link began to break him piece by piece, and Ganondorf, shaking from the torture, prayed for a swift death.

* * *

Ganondorf blinked and was sure he was dreaming. He was sitting up in the middle of total abyss, with only a nameless face staring back at him. He squinted, tried to converse with this face, but all it did was examine him with a mechanical curiosity. Ganondorf tried to protest its invasion, but then he realized that his punishment had not ended. Metal was crashing down on his skull, a buckle breaking over the bone until blood came. He jerked, but to his alarm found he was still sitting up and this face was still watching him. His hand searched the back of his head where the splitting pains tore open his scalp, ripping hair and drawing an endless flow of blood. He felt the crimson flow over his fingers, and his head began to throb. He was being broken, crushed steadily, and his skull split with fracture after fracture as the belt buckle pummeled it. Blood was branching out over his face like veins as it poured from the back of his scalp, the hot liquid dripping and spilling with no remorse or possible end. 

He was still hallucinating in the midst of this mind-boggling pain, but the face had vanished, leaving behind words that he could only barely hear over the clatter of metal against bone.

_I told you not to trust him_.

He was confused, angry, this beating becoming the death of him. The fiery pain at his shoulder kept him still and prostrate, and the boy still beat him savagely. Without any other hope, he tried to stay quiet, knowing he may receive instructions on how to earn some pity or restraint.

"Slave! Dog!"

The rubble on the ground was harsh to lie across, the corners of every shard jagged and pressing against his flesh. Still, Ganondorf kept his mouth shut, and blood stained the stone beneath him. The whipping only stopped so Link could change his approach, and he returned to Ganon's shoulder, pressing his heel roughly and deeply against the bloodied wound, grinding every bone and vein that so feebly connected to the chasm. What resulted was an even greater stab of pain that took hold of every muscle in his body, wrenching and tearing at that which struggled to heal. Contrary to Ganon's earlier determinations, he could not manage to stay silent when every limb in his body screamed.

He shrieked in agony, but the short cry took the last of his energy. He fell into choking and gagging for air.

"Who am I?"

Blood was showering Ganon's hair and shadows battered at his eyesight. He murmured with all the strength he had and still could not be heard. He was gasping, shuddering, the thrashing producing nothing but painful noises in his head that could not be dulled,. Link finally withdrew, but did not cease in asking the question with all of the hatred and impatience he could gather.

"_Who am I?_"

Ganondorf coughed, but feared Link would continue the beating if he stayed silent, and he knew well he could take no more. He was dizzy, the headache hammering him and the blood rushing like water, and only in partial consciousness did he respond, "Master, master—"

Everything fell from him. He recalled only a short moment in which he begged Master not to hurt him anymore, and after that, everything went black.

* * *

Even when Ganondorf woke up again, he was still reeling from the spontaneity and viciousness of the attack. He spat, groaned, and attempted to lift his head, but this motion failed. Everything pulsed with pain and lay frozen. 

Link hadn't been merciful this time.

Ganondorf gave up and started to wait for Link to realize he was awake. He strained to listen for Link's footsteps over the rock, expecting to hear the clatter of rubble as Link pursued him. Instead, there was nothing but a vacant silence.

Link had left. However, Ganondorf was sure that Master would come back, so he did not mind it. He closed his eyes and prepared to wait, mental delusions fluttering about to help him cope and adapt.

Surely,_ surely_, he thought, he must have deserved it. Why, it was silly to think otherwise. Master did it—of course he must have deserved it. Ganondorf rolled his tongue around in his mouth, fervently trying to justify this outpouring of blood and pain.

Why, he knew better than to stab at such a sensitive issue! He should have calmed down, realized that Master was not trying to offend him, and that he didn't have to say such cruel things—

His fingers twitched around the rubble beneath his body.

Master was right, really. He deserved that—why, he deserved more, if anything. Master would never do something so erratically without reason, without some of that maddening 'justice' that drove him to act. How he envied Master and all of his perfection and clarity of thinking, how he yearned to be able to do 'justice' as he did—

He lay on a pile of rocks, beaten into stillness, and pondering over his uselessness. He wondered how much a burden he was. He was a useless jackal, yapping senselessly over things that didn't concern him—

How stupid. How utterly shameful and stupid of him.

Blood was dripping down his forehead and gathering at his eyes. He blinked, and everything grew salty and red. He tried to move, but then the shooting pains would bridle him, and he would sink again into the rocks. The sharp rubble cut into his face and hands, their corners softly slicing into his petrified skin. He wished he could stand up and relieve himself of these jabbing sensations, but he was too sore, too defeated to even try. Even if it didn't hurt so tremendously as it did, there was an underlying lack of desire to move. He was beaten and he had no reason to get up. If lying on the ground with rocks stabbing him meant the humiliation was over, so be it.

He shuddered and moaned. The sour taste of blood was seeping into his mouth and he didn't have the strength to spit it out. He only lay there, prostrate, near death. As he lost blood, he wondered whether Master would come back in time. He knew Master would come back—he _knew_ it. But it had to be soon. Even it he didn't bleed to death, there were so many ways he could die like this—from cold, thirst, wild animals… He winced at the thought of being dragged off and being slowly dismembered while still half-alive by hungry beasts.

Or he could fall ill.

Surely Master didn't want that. He would come back to take care of him.

_Of course…_

_

* * *

_

The next time he woke up, it must have been an hour later, and he was still in the same spot.

He had lost more blood, and he felt more light-headed, but now he was considerably more realistic. He couldn't deny it. Link was not coming back. Link was leaving him to die.

This truth had to settle for a few minutes, it was so profound. Link had _left_. He had beaten him an inch from death and abandoned him in hopes of nature finishing him off.

He was going to die.

Suddenly, Ganondorf didn't feel so inclined to keep lying there. He wriggled furiously, pushing himself up with all of his strength. He didn't _want_ to die!

But the pain stabbed him, and he cowered back to the basin of rock. He whimpered a bit. This was all very confusing and hurtful. Link—_the _Link, the one that was supposed to come back for him, was gone. He didn't understand why the boy was so stubborn. He had a very clear idea of how Link was to act—why did he refuse to conform to it? He thought Link would rescue him, yet he did the opposite, and now Ganondorf didn't know what to think.

He couldn't move. He was going to die what was sure to be a very slow and agonizing death. And Link had just done something particularly ungrateful and out of character. How could any person be stable in a situation such as this?

Maybe he ought to weep, he thought, but it would be such a waste. No one could see him, yes, but there was strength to be saved if he wanted to live.

The more he thought about it, though, the angrier he grew. What was wrong with the boy? He hadn't even done anything, had he? No, he _trusted_ the boy! He trusted him with a lot, and had even done everything Link had asked. He had led Link back to the castle, just as he had asked. He had come and gone in the castle, just as the boy asked. And he had continued to obey, despite all the conflicts. How dare he betray him and act so ungratefully! How dare he walk away so simply, as though nothing was at stake? Ganondorf burned and felt a familiar illness swell from his stomach.

He wanted to kill the rat—strangle him for being so treacherous and unfair. And how he would have!

But, even if he could move and find Link, he wouldn't be able to do that.

After a long hour of mental silence, he tried to think of how he must have pushed the boy to do this. Yes, he had said that rather insensitive thing, but perhaps it was something else, too, and maybe if he just thought about it he could come to terms with it. He had been good, hadn't he? He knew he was trying very hard. There… Was the issue of following him without permission, but that wasn't serious.

Or was it?

Ganondorf started to panic. What if it is _was_ horrible, and he didn't even know it? He had never really thought about it before. Maybe it was more than a violation of Link's knowledge. It was like lying. It _was_ lying. He agreed to stay in his room but instead he followed him…

Oh, he was sorry! He was sorry that he didn't realize how terrible of a sin it was, and he begged Link to understand. He wasn't used to telling the truth so strongly. He didn't know it was such a severe thing to stalk someone, and he swore that he was sorry for what he had done. If Link would only understand that he was trying very hard, and that the stalking was just a slip-up, maybe he would forgive him and save him after all. Ganondorf squirmed all the more harshly, starting to sob and plea. He promised he wouldn't do it again. He promised he'd keep his mouth shut, and that he wouldn't act so proud anymore. If only Link would come back! Then Ganondorf would show him how much better he could be if he only had the chance. He wouldn't say snappy things anymore. He wouldn't dawdle or try to avoid orders. No, he'd be _happy_ to serve him if he would just take back this awful death sentence. He even promised he wouldn't stare at the sky anymore, if it irritated Link as it did most people.

No, he would never look at the sky or at birds or at flowers! Not if admiring these things was an action that deserved death, not if Link did not want it of him. He would call Link 'master,' he would kiss the boy's hands and feet, he would press his face in the dirt in Link's presence, if only this horrible thing could be reverted and Link would give him mercy.

He was sorry and he did not want to die.

His weeping was frozen, caught in his physical paralysis, allowing no shudders or coughs to complement his distress. Nothing could move, his face crushed against the shards of stone, his lips equally still as blood steadily dripped from his teeth. Only the steady flow of water down his face and swirling with his blood could give away the life that still lingered in his crushed body. Knowing he was dead, the corpse continued to cry, the bruises swelling until its limbs were nothing but incurable aches.

He cried silently because of the unfairness of it all. He wished none of this had happened, he wished he could have just rotted away peacefully in the dark realm where at least no one could destroy him so completely. He had never thought about death so urgently, and he shut his eyes in an attempt to imagine the sensation of being one with total abyss. It was so frightening and alien, that even the darkness of his eyelids spooked him. He knew he couldn't die, and yet he had to. No matter the fit he would throw, death did not care how much he feared it or was unable to handle it. It was going to take him in the midst of his pleas for time, even in his inability to comprehend what it was. His last thoughts before he drifted off into darkness again were of the desert and all of its nostalgia, the bright sunlight penetrating his eyes and soul, the dry sweetness of the air, the bowing palm trees against the sandy gales, the sugars and saps of cactus pears dancing on his tongue, the silver pool of dunes under the desert moon, all caressing him gently in his resignation to death.

Maybe it wasn't worth fighting against, after all.

* * *

There was a crunching noise. Ganondorf was so dizzy and exhausted that he barely heard the sound at first, but as he awoke, the noise became clearer. He wasn't dreaming, for he could feel the familiar pain racking his body and the numbness of his crippled arm. 

Link wasn't coming back—Ganondorf already concluded this. But someone was approaching, and his heartbeat awoke from its slumber. Hope of survival surged, and without explanation, he felt strong again. He was sure that he could live, and that this approaching figure would save him, just as long as he could stand and make himself known.

The pain was insurmountable and yet he endured it in those split seconds, just so that his limbs may cooperate and force himself onto his feet. His arms and shoulder ached and screamed, but he refused to let the pain overcome him.

He pushed, throwing himself from the ground, and made his way up. With this quick though painful jerk, he steadied himself on his knees.

He looked around only to find no one was there.

Though it made no sense to him at the time, he decided he might as well finish the job and stand onto his feet. He puzzled over the silence, for he was sure he had heard someone about, and he turned around to glance again at the landscape. At first he saw no one, but then he noticed his horse, loose and walking idly. This made no sense to him. Link would have taken the horse, and he had been gone for hours--unless somehow Ganondorf had overestimated how long he had been here. Whatever it meant, something was wrong.

With nothing else to do, he forced himself up and started to limp his way across the rocks and into the fleeting forest. His vision was considerably blurred, and his steps were uncertain and shaky, but the pluck in him still raged and desired answers. He wanted to know where Link had gone, and whose steps were haunting him. If he had to die, he wanted to die without this bleak confusion.

There was a flap and sharp breath from behind him. His head whirled, but despite the quickness of his spin, his eyes only caught a glimpse of the figure before it vanished into the shadows of the trees. All he had seen was white--a shocking, pearly white that gave him the shivers.

Beady eyes stared back at him, a flock of crows sitting perched in the evergreen branches, waiting patiently for him to follow the ivory spark of life. He could feel his heart pounding and his mouth running dry, but his mind had already decided his fate. He had to chase this thing, whatever it was, because he knew that it was the pursuer that had been chasing _him_ from the beginning.

Slowly and deliberately, Ganondorf stepped along the ground, holding his broken arm and swallowing the copper bile in his mouth. The crows never left him, nor spared him their steady gaze. He dragged himself, and they fluttered noiselessly by his side.

The air was still and frozen, the temperature dropping sharply. Clouds grumbled unhappily overhead, and the world turned a dark shade of evening blue. The light was so quickly disappearing that Ganondorf had trouble seeing where he was going, but every so often, the white spark would glisten ahead of him, and he would relentlessly trudge after it. The birds occasionally cawed in encouragement, and he earned an impatient peck or two for nearly giving into his exhaustion.

His feet hit a chilly pool of water, and the cold alarmed him so that he gave the landscape a careful, hard glance. The crows no longer pursued him, and a fickle breeze began, so he believed that this was where he had to stop.

He waited for a sign, and upon receiving none, he sighed and looked to the sky.

What he saw instead were dangling feet from above him, and he heard the slow creak of a rope being stressed and pulled by weight. He lurched and averted his eyes before he could see the hanged body's face. Now, Ganondorf was beginning to panic. He was prepared to go back--seeing a hanged corpse had ended his curiosity and now he wanted to get as far away as he could.

But the crows screamed at him and a lofty, low whisper was carrying among the trembling trees. He desperately looked for the voice's source, but with every flash of white he saw in the brush, it would disappear immediately and appear elsewhere.

The whispering creature laughed softly.

_Has someone been punished for insubordination? Pray, tell--what cruel master has beaten its slave? What master has stung it with blade and leather, knowing it could not hope to fight back? Abuse! --Abuse it is, my Lovely, that you should earn such bruises while you are only trying to do what you are told..._

Ganondorf heard a brisk splash of water and turned frantically to defend himself. Yet nothing was there was ghostly ripples in the dark water, and as he looked up again, the hanged body had vanished. His heart skipped a beat and the faint laughter echoed throughout his surroundings.

_There is so much I want to tell you, Lovely._

"Where is Link?" he asked, but his voice failed him and it came out as a hoarse quiver.

The forest became an array of violent, frightening noises, none with physical causes to pair with them--footsteps, breaths, laughs, shrieks, splashes, creaks--

An icy hand slipped into his, and without so much as a twitch of movement from his own body, a woman stood before him, a woman broken by nightmares and sorrow, but still laughing at a joke only she understood, like a weary drunkard guffawing at the most inane of humors. Her countenance shook like she was afflicted by a fever, and her pearly eyes were set back into her head, hands groping for any life she could find. Her feet swiveled as though the earth beneath her was tilting erratically, and she fought to steady herself in the midst of her dizzy spell.

The woman opened her mouth and nothing but nonsense came forth, all in a hazy, dream-like pattern, speaking as though a thousand voices were crowding through the same passageway. At times, her voice was at a hoarse whisper, and at others she screamed at the top of her lungs, but one thing was clear: there was a mind-boggling, intense sense of terror and rage permeating from every word and line.

-

"Mom saw the stars in the water. She couldn't resist. She swam and swam and found them at the bottom of the river, sparkling and singing aloud. She plucked them out of place, put them in her eyes... They burned her with fire and ate her alive... We found sister inside of her, bleeding, screaming, a worm festering in Mom's corpse. DON'T WORRY, SISTER, I LOVE YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE A BASTARD AND MOM'S A WHORE."

"Auntie was eaten too, but slowly. She drank in bed, laughing because she found the same thing, except inside of men--big men, rich men, men who took her to bed. NO. DON'T DO THAT. STOP. All they wanted was body, body, body."

"THEY WERE CONSUMED AND NO ONE CRIED OUT."

"_Oh God_, do you love me? Please, please, love me, I know you do, I can see it in your eyes. ECREAL OPEN THE DOOR I'M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU I PROMISE. You can't open the door. If you do, then everything will stop and I won't be able to kiss you anymore."

-

She smiled at him, and it was the worst smile he could have ever received. He felt black slap him away from any comprehensible reality, and watched as this demon grinned and fretted over its ancient difficulties. He felt such pain, such inhumanity in the air, that he could give no response. He only gave into terror and watched as this long-lost shred of raw memory trailed away into the wilderness.

* * *

A/N: That was... Interesting. No? And so the main villain is coming into the picture... 

The last pieces of dialouge are going to confuse you for now, but they'll gain some context later. The best piece of advice I have for my readers is to notice consistencies as the story progresses--themes will continue to emerge, and those will be the best clues. To properly enjoy the story, you'll have to put up with my storytelling--I tend to tell all without context, confuse everything, and confuse it only more up until the end, when everything ties together. Things will probably only get more perplexing here on out. So... Wheee!

As I continue to rewrite and reorganize my storyline, I'm finding myself getting very close to what I think is the variety of Hylian cultures. I'm personally interested in the sociology of cultures worldwide, so as I approach the challenge of creating and maintaining a Hylian culture, I can't help but get excited.

There are a lot of cultural influences in what Hyrule is portrayed as in the games: There are touches of European mideival culture, Indian culture (the names of the goddesses, the currency, and some of the desert culture's traits come from India), and as in the Wind Waker, Irish/Celtic influences. The world even integrates different time periods and technologies, from the jukebox in OOT to the motor boat in MM.

The challenge arrives at how to portray this mix--a lot of fanfiction just doesn't mind that much, and slaps together what has already been seen in the games. I am trying to stir up a reasonable, highly theoretical, and deeper interpretation of Hyrule. One has to avoid cliches and misapplications (for example, the role of women in certain societies is highly misunderstood--if women do not have freedom of careers or a right to choose their spouse, it doesn't automatically mean their culture is sexist; oftentimes the role is simply more complex than the modern, Western role), and also avoid applying alien values. Just because my culture values one thing doesn't mean Hyrule's culture will as well.

Especially in this next chapter, which hopefully won't take as long as this one (though I get the feeling it will), there will be a lot on the cultures of Hyrule. So look forward to that and take this chapter as a promise that I'm not ever abandoning this fic.


	6. wrath of the river

**A/N: This is just a quick note because I have an hour before I leave for a week (aaaah!). Sorry this took so long, etc. etc.**

**There are probably formatting errors in here, but try not to mind them 'til I get back on the 30th. I'll discuss the rating thing with you guys later... **

**Yup yup yup. Enjoy, please. Now I must run!**

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* * *

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**Chapter 6: wrath of the river**

"When you close your doors, and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within. And what need have they of light to see what you are doing?" **Epictetus**

Ganondorf was adept in magic and in the powers that swirl in such mysteries, and as whispers passed his ears and wrecked wanderers fled through the mist, he recalled the lessons he had learned as a young magician. His adoptive mothers did what they could to teach him advanced magic, despite the crippling slowness in which he learned it.

Of the many things he had learned, the identity of the thing he had just encountered was something a bit obscured. It was a rare sort of entity, but from the moment he sensed its presence, he could tell what it was.

Memories, he had learned a long time ago, could have mystical properties if in the right hands. All people had memories that they did not consider valuable or pleasant-memories that are placed in the back of their minds and ignored. Certain memories, if they are powerful enough and abandoned, can become wanderers. Ganondorf shivered at the thought, but he was sure this was what he saw. This wanderer was without a keeper to shelter it, a festering wound that searched endlessly for someone willing to remember it, growing perpetually worse as the centuries drifted by.

The words it spoke, and the forms it took, were a history unwritten and unbridled. He had merely stumbled upon its tracks, been caught up in its web, and now he was unsure if he would be able to escape from its path. He had learned that such phenomenon were extremely rare, but also very dangerous-lost memories desired hosts, and were often so clouded with pure emotion that they could be violent.

Ganondorf did his best to limp away from this haunted ground, but could hear shadows following him and taunting him. He swallowed the blood seeping into his mouth and kept moving, and with his hard work, he came closer to returning to the field of talus.

Pain altered everything in his body, including his sight and other senses. Everything around him seemed to quiver, a sticky web of colors and tastes, and crimson blotches blinded him as his scalp continued its bleeding. The earth and flesh shuddered as one, as a unified mass of stench and grating heat, as a dripping expanse of water. He could hear only the breeze and the eternal shower of the rosy liquid down his broken stature. All was hot, cold, stiff, limp, sharp, soft-

He was dizzy from the unsettling confusion that dawned upon him, and he grew more panicked as devils picked up their speed. A sprawling movement of limbs whisked past him, and it was so black, so wiry in form, so wicked in intent, that he could not make out whether it was a rat or a behemoth. It was only _there_, scribbling its will, cackling at his growing fear.

He whirled, huffed, blood coming out in streams, numbness pinching his arm yet again. But as his vision corrected itself, and as the wave of torment ceased, he realized that the shadow was nothing at all. It was his horse, who had impatiently waited for his return, and was now briskly trekking through the woods.

He did not have time to wonder why his perception was being twisted. He only clicked his tongue, called up the horse for assistance, and leaned onto the beast's broad ribcage for the rest of the trip. For that brief time, Ganondorf felt himself at ease. The comfort of a familiar scent, body, and warmth was welcoming after encountering the horrors that he recognized as alien.

The rocks stood pale under the newly darkened sky. The world above seemed to broil and stir angrily, torrents of gray and red breaking the fragile barrier that kept the earth and sky separate. The clouds groaned with thunder, and the trees hissed from the bowing wind. There, under this terrible wasteland of fire and smoke, Ganondorf identified someone standing idly in the open field.

"Link?"

He felt a strange mixture of fear and relief upon identifying the person, and forced himself onward to begin crossing the ocean of marble and soil. His horse tensed despite his firm command to move-its hairs bristled and the animal emitted an angry snort of defiance. This was unlike its usual behavior, and Ganondorf was forced to leave it behind. Through his delirium, Ganondorf did not try to read his horse's worry.

"Link," he sputtered again, limping closer to the boy's side. "I've been-"

No, no, this was not right... Ganondorf found himself hesitating all the more as his steps drew closer. From a distance, this thing looked like Link, but the nearer he came to it, the more its traits betrayed its very different contours. The flesh jerked with a spur of inhumanity, and the colors it sought to imitate were ever-so-slightly obscured. It was not Link, but a cheap knock-off, a weak attempt at mockery. Whatever it may be, it was alive, breathing, peering out from beneath a layer of skin. Its limbs grew out like stalks, disproportioned and useless, groping in the empty air for some evidence of life.

Ganondorf stopped, stared dumbly at this gruesome puppet, hearing its strings buzz and seeing its insect-like eyes bursting in size. This idol turned to him as well, and gave him a long look. For a moment, it seemed, Ganondorf could overlook the frightening, exaggerated features, and there he could see Link quite simply. It was merely the boy, gazing pointlessly with his empty eyesight, quizzically statued. It was Link, for that moment, who looked at him and was attempting a question-but then, the humanity vanished, and all that was left was an empty vessel and a puncturing glare.

His senses were so overwhelmed by this doppleganger that he could not help but reach out for it. His curiosity defeated him, and in a time of perhaps extreme foolishness, Ganondorf tried to grab for the Link-thing.

Like a reflection in a pool of water, the image shattered and rippled upon being touched. His touch went through it, and the being dissolved before his eyes.

A newly-awakened sense of panic started to drive him now. A sliver of pain etched at his abdomen, and the familiar voice was grating through his head.

"Where is Link?"

He already knew-he could feel it, and could tell that this thing was toying with him. Bitter as he may be, Link was still connected to him, and if the boy was in danger, Ganondorf was in danger as well.

For a while, the voice merely unleashed a series of breaths and groans, but after deliberations, he received an answer. _I have him._

Ganondorf looked about the field, but found nothing but emptiness. "Where?"

_Wherever I wish him to be._

Ganondorf cringed as he felt the blunt of a knife smooth along his stomach-whatever it was, and wherever it had the boy, it was obviously debating over whether to gut the boy where it kept him. "That's all well and good," Ganondorf lamely began, feeling the blood loss affect his thinking. The environment was becoming exceptionally fuzzy, and he started to lose track of his thoughts. This did not make well for a convincing argument. "...But, you see, I need him back here now."

_ I don't think you do, and besides... I don't want to give him back._

Ganondorf felt a terrible flash of pain. He keeled over, able to feel the invisible nails digging into his stomach. He desperately flailed, trying to numb the pain and remove the sharp nails, but there were no nails to pull. He fell into the dirt, gasping and blearily looking up. The clouds continued their crimson rage, and he could feel his body failing him.

There was an amused croon that echoed through his mind, and then the pain began to fade into a sore throb. His breathing steadied, but he was still unable to move. Whatever had stabbed Link had been removed, but the severe pain remained, eventually merging with the countless other aches that plucked him.

_Come and find him,_ the voice mocked. _The blood he spills is a nuisance._

Ganondorf felt another jerk of pain, his strength rushing from his body, leaving him cold and trembling. His fear and paranoia only made it more difficult, and he was unable to endure it. He was in a desperate search for means of numbing the pain, but was abandoned with the reality that nothing would heal it. Icily, he took in a breath. His eyes carefully wandered to the ground, concentrating on his motions. He clenched his teeth and planned his movements; he wanted to avoid any unnecessary motion. The more he moved, the more it hurt.

_Are you deaf?_

"Leave me, demon," Ganondorf dryly hissed. The voice guffawed.

_I am no demon._ _To you, I am a gift._

Ganondorf couldn't understand this logic.

_I can make you free._

Ganondorf cautiously froze, muttering suspiciously, "What sort of freedom are you offering me?"

_The boy bleeds, and you bleed also. I can cut the link. Or, if you prefer, I can cut both "links"-your connection with him, as well as the boy's throat._

Ganondorf, though the offer was severely tempting, couldn't help but remain uneasy. He made himself sound wary as he asked, "Although I like the idea... You do realize that the bond was enforced by the gods themselves, do you not?"

The ill laughter again racked his mind, split with a foul hiss. The voice continued to sound amused by his observations, and chuckled, _The gods? What power do they have? I am stronger than them. You obviously do not know who I am._

"You've been bothering me quite enough to make me wonder," he replied wryly. "Do I dare ask?"

There was a silence that was broken only by the heavy breaths that the evil released, sick gasps between heaves and coughs. The sounds were bemused, considering its answer to such a bold question. After that moment, and realizing that Ganondorf was slowly losing interest, the voice broke into an eerie monotone.

_The River. Let them drink from it. Memories slip. History flows forward, but the past is changed. The River flows on. Let the souls drink and forget... The River of Hell. Behind the land of White, the gates of Hell release the waters..._

Ganondorf snorted, "What?"

_...I am the waters._

"Wicked thing, what do you mean?"

_...Lethe. River of Hell. Lethe. I am the River... Lethe._

Ganondorf struggled to stand up, becoming annoyed by the voice's drones. "Lethe?"

_That is my name._

"What are you?"

_Don't you know?_

"Why would I know?" Ganondorf roared impatiently.

_...I don't know. I just thought you knew._ The voice was sounding increasingly apathetic and dull, but the sense Ganondorf received that told him the voice was mocking him never lifted. Ganondorf, quickly despising the tone, became uninterested in its offer. It was obviously not sane, whatever it may be. Accepting such a bribe would be foolish.

"I do not care for your offer."

_That is fine._

"I want him back."

_You're a liar._

Ganondorf's feet at last gained the strength they needed to prop himself up again. Still slightly queasy, he now stood upright, but did not know where to even begin looking for the 'Lethe.' He growled at the creature's puzzles. "I'm warning you, I am not in the mood."

_Why? I say the truth. You don't want him back. Just wait a moment..._

The voice faded, replaced by a slick series of taps, almost like rapid clicks of a tongue. Ganondorf, knowing that it was doing something, ignored the increasing pain that stirred in his chest. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

The voice did not respond.

"Tell me!" he shrieked impatiently. Fear was beginning to shake his tone, and as the sounds disappeared, he frantically turned to the depths of the forest. He sped as quickly as he could manage with the broken arm, and nearly plowed back into the maze of trees in search of Lethe. His steps hesitated at the realization that he had no idea where he could search. The intensity of the sound that was ringing in his ears drove him mad, making him even more desperate, but there was no hope. The green hid all that existed, and by now, Lethe would have dragged Link too far for him to find.

The forest hid them both. Ganondorf nearly erupted in a rage, but before his fury could thrive, the pain in his gut abruptly stopped. There was a distant snap somewhere in the back of his mind, as though a thread had been snared and cut. For a second, there was a throb of blood rushing to his head, but the dizziness lifted. All that remained was the steady ache from his injuries. Ganondorf froze, lungs heaving, but otherwise having no direct course of action. He was unsure if action was even necessary-the pain had stopped, and the voice was gone.

Ganondorf did not realize what had happened until he earnestly reviewed what Lethe had offered him.

Lethe had cut the link. The connection was gone.

Ganondorf was _free._

Ganondorf stood, absolutely dumbfounded, for this was all he _could_ do. Slowly, Ganondorf began to envision what this freedom meant, but could find no reason to move. Instead, he stood in place, eyes darting and watching for movement around him. There was nothing.

Ganondorf became increasingly irritated with himself, reasoning that this was a positive result. He had wanted this from the beginning, but now that it actually occurred, he was truly lost. Now without chains, Ganondorf had no place to go. This problem became eerily clearer as he waited and wondered what his next motion should be. It had all happened so quickly, and now Ganondorf was beginning to entertain the idea that he didn't really want to be released yet. He despised this idea, but it was getting to be more reasonable. At least the chains had given him a lead.

The trees stared back at him, offering no suggestions as to where he should go, or what he should do. Ganondorf timidly tightened his fingers into a fist at his side, taking in a hesitant breath. _Think, _he earnestly urged himself. _You have to think._

What was he to think about? He didn't even know.

He worried now about the imminent danger that Link was certainly facing. On the surface, he instantly dismissed it, reminding himself that the task was forced upon him. He anxiously tried to refrain from thinking about it, repulsed by the idea of wanting to save the boy. The idea was ridiculous-there was no reason for him to do so. It should have been obvious to him that Link deserved to die for the immense cruelty that he delivered, even if it was by the hands of something Ganondorf did not trust. He buried his fears, wanting to be able to forget his enemy and continue without any weariness to his heart.

But there was an undeniable wish somewhere hidden to look for Link anyway. He wasn't sure of himself, and knew not of an explanation for the feeling, though he suspected foul play. It was another mental trick, or so he hoped. The prospect of actually caring for his enemy's fate disgusted him. He had felt this frustration several times before. He _wanted_ to hate Link, yet there was this annoying pest of a conscience buzzing in his ear. Normally, it was swatted carelessly away like a fly, but now it held some sort of power-and where it received this power, he did not know. He knew, though, that being close to the boy had not helped. Personal attachments were always inconvenient when trying to doom the one attached.

In the end, it was not his logical side that triumphed. The trouble of the situation was that there were too many uncertain variables, and Ganondorf had come to the conclusion that without Link, he was very lost. Besides, who's to say this couldn't be some sort of trap? Perhaps this devil _expected _him to leave Link for dead (he would have expected as much), and in fact this entire arrangement was an illusion. How did he know he was unconnected? The pain was gone, and he could feel a terrifying detachment from the boy, but what if Lethe had the power to artificially present these symptoms?

After thoroughly convincing himself that this was a dangerous circumstance that required Link's survival, Ganondorf made the shocking decision to save Link-that is, once he figured out where Lethe could possibly be.

He scanned the world with a long, discombobulated stare, searching for any minute detail that could have been overlooked. He thought it a trick of the light at first, but there was a flicker of crimson reflection in the distance, tracing a crystal thread of water.

Water? This, Ganondorf decided, was a promising place to start. Perhaps Lethe was quite _literally_ a river, or at least was connected to a body of water in some way. Ganondorf made one step forward, and from what he could tell the step was a solid one, but with the single, crooked lunge, he found himself missing the ground completely. He was so utterly dizzy and lost that he could not walk straight. The world spun before him and he wobbled to remain standing on his two feet.

It took hard, laborious effort to make this journey across the field without collapsing. But the sky was swelling with steam and water, and the river that came into view glistened from the red and grays overhead. The river was easy to spot, and even easier to spot was the cave the water spilled into. It was a gaping orifice in the side of the hill, humming from the streaming depths and echoes of flow. He approached it warily, and found the cave quite sizable enough for himself, and found the tunnel so long that he couldn't see the end of it before the water faded into the obscurity of the darkness.

He would have to submerge in the waters to fit-the cave was created only from the river's power to erode stone, and so the cave's path only yielded to the chilly, brimming flow. He entered without hesitation, the stream swelling up to his knees. He waded onward, the abyss gobbling him up, leaving no world to which he could look back. The light disappeared and the outside faded like a pleasant but forgettable dream.

There was silence and an undeniable feeling that something was accompanying him. It enticed him senselessly-he feared it yet he knew he needed this thrill edging along his skin. He was positive now that the thing he searched for lay here.

A gasp, splash, crash of icy water-and there everything ceased to make sense.

* * *

There was a door in front of him, offering its metallic orb of a knob, beckoning him to open its maw. He knew those memories could be on the other side-he knew that the owner of the memories could also lie dormant inside the room. The door was out of place as it was; there was no hint of habitation in the cave but this moldy, aching remnant of a wooden barrier. There was a wall of rock, and then _this_, and it gave him a terrible feeling.

In Gerudo culture, doors were not considered necessary or desirable. Gerudo women allowed openings in the walls, spare windows cut from adobe, and if needed, silk curtains for a degree of privacy. But doors were considered an affront and a threat. They concealed too much from the public eye, allowed too much secrecy and incentive to conspire. The Gerudo doors were lucid, honest, and all words would pass through the walls without effort.

Doors, Ganondorf always found, felt too strong and blockaded. Whenever he saw a door, he could not escape the possibility that there was something frightening behind it, and he was forced to accept that he could not see it and that nothing he could do would save him from this threat.

This door was different only because he _knew_ that there were the foulest of demons behind it. He approached it and strangely felt his terror dwindle, but he did not realize that the lack of fear was only due to a steady loss of understanding. Waters were rising, slicking across his feet and ankles, and as he was forced to wade through the dark streams, he could feel his knowledge being leeched. He forgot more as he shuffled and sank, and by the time the door was opened and the devil inside it was awakened, his name was nothing but a distant memory that had long since wandered into wilderness.

"Oh, thank the goddesses you're here-"

Was someone speaking? He blinked and tried to peer through the curtain of darkness. Indeed, there was a voice...

He could swear he recognized it, but the recognition was so far away...

"Ganondorf-"

'Ganondorf'? Who is that? And why was this pest addressing him this way?

He could feel an overwhelming desire to vomit and shiver. There was water and mold everywhere, the stench of age and moisture suffocating him. He was standing in water, feeling drained and tired, his mind exhausted of any recollections at all. What was happening to him? Why couldn't he remember anything?

"You have to do something, quickly-the water's rising."

Water? There was no water here! There was only an endless desert, barren and still, lilting, familiar lullabies shuddering in his ears. His heart was beating radiantly, as though at last he had woken up from this terrible nightmare, and there found himself home.

Home! He hadn't been there in what seemed to be centuries. It was milky, silent, open, baring the very things he loved to hate. He remembered those striking feelings of solitude that overcame him only a few days ago, and now that he had found home again, these terrors faded.

He belonged and he did not want to leave.

"We have to get out of here?"

Why? He sucked in the air, eating in every smell and flavor that drifted in the pearly dunes. He didn't want to leave this heaven-who would? The air became deep with scent and wind, so that he was gasping in order to take it in, almost wrestling for its intake.

The sun glazed over like a sugary sweet, and he could feel himself sinking in the cool powder that could both caress and sting.

"Ganon-"

_You're drowning._

"I feel fine."

"GANON!"

_You have to remember._

"Remember what...?"

"YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME."

Ganondorf's thoughts stuttered to a halt. The voice was unfamiliar yet even he could hear the inherent demand for respect and obedience.

"YOU'RE GOING TO DROWN."

Ganondorf awoke, coughing and sputtering in shock, and had awakened only early enough to watch Link sink into the dark water's depths.

Ganondorf could only immediately sense that there was water up to his neck, that this water was steadily rising, and that his head was scraping against the serrated ceiling of the cave. He heard furious gurgles bubbling up to the surface, and instinctively he knew this had to earn his attention first. Without hesitation, he was engulfed by the black lake, and he dove in search of the river's bed.

There was no sound but the surrounding sighs of running water, and so for a time Ganondorf merely drifted. His searching would be blind in this perpetual darkness.

_Why are you trying to save him?_

Pest, he thought. He concentrated on trying to hear the boy out-if only he could hear a hint of panic or breathing-

_He tried to kill you just today, and now you are saving him?_

Ganondorf, drifting lifelessly at the river's floor, felt a brief but obvious touch. As he grabbed, groped, and frantically tore through the water in search of the body he just felt, he gave the voice a stern reply.

_He did try to kill me,_ he acknowledged, _and I am certainly going to **discuss** the issue with him. We'll have a grand talk about it-but I need him alive to do that._

Ganondorf grappled briefly with the body, tugging on its stubbornly cemented limbs. He couldn't find exactly what was holding so fast to the boy, and so his hand continued its desperate untangling. There was a snag, Ganondorf could feel it-the boy's flailing was sagging as he lost air and consciousness-and finally Ganondorf found the trap latched at the boy's ankle.

It was a hand.

But it slipped away like a ghostly eel, gliding into the distant and unfamiliar shadows.

Ganondorf did not have time to feel fear or confusion now, and so with his new baggage, he careened back to the dreary surface of the water. No longer did he have to think; his mind had shut down in self defense, and now his body worked independently, reacting through instinct and automation. His acts were reduced to mechanical processes, and he was barely aware of the reality before him: he was floating in this infinitely expansive water, gripping an unconscious and barely breathing (breathing at all?) boy, swimming in hopes of finding an open space. Had he thought at all, he would have let his imagination carry out this haunting possibility-he had not seen things, and there was someone else in this water, perhaps right below him, perhaps even now touching him without him realizing it. Had he thought of this, he would have panicked and his only chance to survive would have faded.

But Ganondorf had trained in reigning in wandering thoughts.

The cold of the water was settling into his bones and he shivered. He waded onward, setting his sights on a sliver of light, and upon finding that Link's body was a trouble to move, he flung the heavy, dripping sack of life over his shoulder, wincing at the strain of his broken arm. The glimpse of light was in fact a distant gap in the cave's mouth, rushing forth water into the open earth, and he clumsily drifted for it. He floated along the rushing current, gripping the serrated ceiling and clawing himself into a proper direction with his only useful arm.

He couldn't tell he was smiling to himself, nearly beaming with pride. _That wasn't difficult at all. I'm practically made for this sort of thing._

He nearly missed the bristle and throaty rush that erupted behind him, bubbling and gasping faintly like a floundering fish. He was so concentrated on the light ahead and the boy over his shoulder that the noise seemed, at first, inconsequential.

But then it emerged and breathed from behind him, a musky, dead smell overcoming him. Ganondorf stopped dead, arm throbbing and bleeding, hair standing on end. No method could possibly predict the thing's form or specie. It did not sound like any beast or man he had ever known, and the smell-oh gods, the smell!-was suffocating and unidentifiable. Ganondorf could only stand, feeling the absent hairs and breaths at his back.

For a good five minutes, Ganondorf waited for it to leave or attack, but instead it waited for him, floating and stinking and, from what he could feel, he was sure it was smiling. He wondered absently if it was another memory that had lost its way, but for a memory, it felt excruciatingly empty and void. It had nothing to tell him. It was only patiently observing him as he panicked and thought his actions through.

At last, Ganondorf broke away, taking in a stubborn breath and plunging into the light. He did not care if it was going to chase him, but he could not stay in this water any longer. These waters were confusing him, stealing from him. He nearly expected the beast to pursue, but instead it faded back into obscurity, not because it had given up, but because it had other plans.

Ganondorf rather unceremoniously crawled from the river's bank and threw Link's body to the brittle ground. Ganondorf had, through the entire fiasco, lost the inclination to treat this boy with much politeness.

Ganondorf gasped and bled profusely, but did not waste time. He went to Link's side, parting the tangled, wet locks from his face, and evaluated his case. He made a quick reading of the Hylian's heartbeat and found it steady. This assured him that, at the very least, there was life still ticking.

Ganondorf at first gave Link a gentle backhand to stir him awake, but Ganondorf then recalled that, in fact, such restraint was not necessary. Almost too eagerly, Ganondorf resorted to a stern slap, and thus the boy stirred and gurgled. The water swimming in Link's lungs spewed from his mouth, and finally he coughed and shook to life.

Link's milky eyes opened needlessly and wandered about, as if they could see what was above him. The boy spoke up quietly, his voice raw from suffocation and exhaustion. "Are you there?"

Ganondorf unhappily harrumphed. "I suppose I am."

Link took this into consideration. "You saved my life."

"So?" Ganondorf responded with a violent distaste.

"He said you wouldn't."

Ganondorf felt acutely defeated, and he wasn't sure why, so he kept his reply dull in order to end this exchange. "Well, he was wrong then, wasn't he?"

Link gave a smirk and Ganondorf wished he could wipe it from his face. Ganondorf wished he had the strength to tell Link that he didn't deserve it and saving him was more a logical choice than one made out of affection.

"Quit smiling or I'll hit you again," Ganondorf bitterly threatened.

"Do you plan to take advantage of this?" Link rolled his head lifelessly, apathetic to the fate bestowed upon him.

"You sure as hell did when _I_ was in this position," the Gerudo angrily retaliated, using his only good arm to grab at the boy's collar. "So let's talk about it, huh?"

Link did not appear to feel threatened and wearily laughed. "Is that the only reason you saved me? To torture me for a while?"

_Crunch_. Link's smile vanished from his expression and was replaced by a constrained grimace.

Ganondorf coyly hissed, "Yeah, because it's _much more fun_ to hurt you myself."

_Crick-crack-**crunch**._

Link emitted a pitiful cry, but helplessly consented as his wrist was forcibly crushed and snapped.

"I don't want to know what sort of mental problems made you do what you did to me," Ganondorf calmly explained, reveling in the sounds of breaking bones and the whimpering boy, "but I'm _not_ the sort who puts up with that garbage. I'm going to let you live this time-and I can't guarantee there'll _be_ a next time."

Ganondorf stood up, stepped over the retching body, and looked out over the horizon with no real purpose in mind.

The silence that followed was just as hurtful as it was pleasant. Ganondorf momentarily considered what he felt, but could only conclude that he was tired. Very, very tired-and as such, he had lost his enthusiasm for his normal tastes. Link was still tossing and groaning, but Ganondorf had long since forgotten and tired of the torture. Now he regretted breaking the boy's wrist, if only because the racket the victim was making was incredibly tedious and annoying.

Tearfully but not without venom, Link sputtered at Ganon's back, "So, what are you going to do? Leave me to die?"

Ganondorf at first did not dignify the inquiry with an answer. The Gerudo searched for his horse, who had yet again shown its undying loyalty by pursuing his steps. Link's question rolled about in his head-Ganondorf had seriously considered this possibility of committing the irony-but he grabbed his horse's reins and reeled the beast into their circle.

"I would," Ganondorf answered simply, stooping down and roughly pulling Link to his feet, "but I have use for you yet."

The Gerudo man was feeling a bit dizzy, and he knew his bleeding was not to blame. After freezing and reexamining himself, Ganondorf realized something was terribly wrong.

Link wavered under his iron grip. "...Um... Are you...?"

Ganondorf hastily cut him off and hoisted his young master onto the horse. "I need you to do me a favor," he told him gruffly.

Link was now a bit confused, but was in no position to argue. Ganondorf felt his head exploding with rash noises and pains, and as everything grew distant, he knew he was going to faint sooner or later. To be unconscious now was not useful at all-Link would be unable to travel with him, and if Ganondorf attempted to ride, he'd surely fall off.

"Are you ready?"

Link panicked. "For what? No, I'm not!"

"Shut up and listen to me. I want you to ride as hard as you can, as far as you can go. When or if anyone finds you, regardless of who it is, give yourself up and direct them back here."

"B-but... Aren't you-?"

"I'm staying here," Ganondorf calmly instructed. "I'll be fine. Tell them that I'm at the river bank of an empty field of rock; I suppose they'll know where that is. I'll be pretty noticeable all the same."

"G-Ganon, there isn't any village from here for miles, no one will ever-"

"Then we'll just have to depend on a little luck."

"I c-can't-" Link kept giving his this shell-shocked look, his face deathly pale and his injured body trembling. He was doing well in appearing pathetic, but the whimpering was not met with any impressed words.

"Don't be a ditz. Of course you can do this. It's very simple. I even have you pointed in the right direction."

Oh goddesses, he was short of breath, he couldn't breathe in anything but frivolous gasps—

An old, familiar friend was knocking.

"Ganon?" Link wearily inquired, hearing the weakness in Ganondorf's inhales.

"Boy," Ganon wheezed, a tickle starting from his head and spilling down over the rest of his body. "I'm going to lay down now. You go on."

Link looked at him as though he had gone insane. "_What_? Why? "

"Never mind-get on already!" Ganondorf ordered, giving his horse a weak shove. Link frantically addressed him and the horse teetered with its rider's hesitation.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I'm counting on you-now _GO_!"

He watched as Link gave into the plan, his last resort fading beyond sight. With Link gone, Ganondorf stiffly lay down on his side, straightening his limbs in preparation for the impending attack.

Ganondorf, before his consciousness slipped away with the gagging of his nerves, wondered why this had returned so suddenly. He hadn't had an epilepsy in years, after all... It didn't make any sense, really, that this would assault him so suddenly. Ganondorf mentally cursed and hoped it would go over quickly.

It was a terrible feeling, a nervous twitch that consumed every piece of him from head to toe. He tried to breathe slowly and in rhythm, but to his horror he could not control the spasms, and his head started to ache. Everything fell away, ceasing to be relevant to the sudden shaking of his flesh, and in a spontaneous heave, his body split. His back struck the ground, saliva drowned him with every impulsive gasp for air, his muscles straining, loosening, and battering the earth below him.

His eyes rolled into the back of his skull. He could see and hear nothing. All he could sense was a horrible chill and a familiar sense of helplessness. Everything pulled back, everything froze, until his spine arched and paralyzed every joint in his frame.

He was stuck, shaking, lost, gone…

He remembered nothing after that, and the next thing he could sense was the shocking scent of fire and the tender embrace of wool.

_

* * *

_

_"Sir..."_

_The men stood side by side, the tent cloth bowing overhead, fires flickering around them. The old man they confronted eyeballed them knowingly as the head of the group stepped forward to explain._

_"You were right, Priest. Two men were found-one a foreigner, the other a Hylian."_

_"How are they?" the priest asked._

_"The Hylian acquired a bit of shock from a stomach wound, and has a broken bone here and there at his hand, but otherwise he will be fine. The foreigner is in very bad shape. Quite battered... He has not come to consciousness yet, has broken bones, and I have reason to believe that when I found him, he was undergoing an epilepsy."_

_"What is the Hylian's story?"_

_"He says they were attacked by bandits-as you said he would."_

_The priest nodded. So his prophecy had proved correct... "Keep a close eye on them both, and take care of them well."_

_"By the way," the man interjected smoothly, "it appears that the Hylian does not know of the habitual epilepsies his foreign partner seems to be undergoing..."_

_"That is their business."_

_The leader bowed respectfully. "I thought so."_

* * *

Ganondorf could not tell exactly how long he must have been drifting in and out of his sleep. He was in so much pain that he gratefully plowed into his chance to sleep, but occasionally he would awaken and examine his surroundings.

He did not know where he was, or what was happening, and he had no means of figuring out the time or date. All he could do was glance around in confusion, pick up his observations, then fall back into rest when the pain grew too powerful. Consciousness fluttered about and teased him relentlessly, and his awakenings were only rewarded with more suffering and sleep.

At times, he would open in his eyes to find himself immersed in sweat and paralysis, and he would feel the familiar impossibility of breathing. He would black out mere seconds later and return to consciousness with severe impairment and puzzlement. There were rarely people about, and even more rarely could he see their faces, but he could hear their hushed responses to his convulsions and inability to wake up.

Only once could he see a face-it was a sudden surge of strength in him that caused a bout of consciousness. Ganondorf had spurred alive in alarm, glanced about the room for several minutes, and fallen again. But during this erratic awake, he saw that he was inside a spacious, draping tent. There was the soft noise of people walking about outside, but otherwise he thought he was alone.

Then he saw her.

She wasn't even paying attention to him. Her face was buried in the comfort of a book, her legs pressed to her chest, and even when he tried to speak to her, she did not respond. This woman only sat on the ground, an estranged overseer, and as he looked at her, he could tell she was with child.

He tried to speak to her but his voice was gone, and soon enough, so was she.

* * *

Ganondorf, once everything settled into place, learned where he was and what was going on.

The first conscious question he had for the servants who tended him was the name of the village. The servants had to inform him that, in fact, this was not really a permanent village at all, and more of a temporary settlement on the outskirts of Hyrule's borders. The group of people lived across a large span of land, camping out in tents and other mobile shelters, and had been in the area for only a month or two.

It was a quiet, pleasant, and thoroughly ignorant gaggle of people. Ganondorf concluded this when the servants failed to recognize his identity or even race-when questioned, Ganondorf merely informed them that he was a slave, and the questions were retracted.

They had provided Ganondorf with a sizable, crimson-coated tent, with a warm bed and a quaint wood stove with a stove pipe spiraling up through the overhanging cloth. All of his belongings were arranged carefully at his bed's side, and from what he could tell, none of it was disturbed. He mused over the settlement's hospitality and absently wondered whether such treatment was typical towards slaves. Somehow, he doubted such was the case.

He had not yet been able to leave the tent, and also had not yet seen Link. The last time he had seen the boy, he was relatively unhurt, so it didn't seem possible that Link was too injured to at least visit by now. When Ganondorf asked, he was told that Link was in the neighboring tent.

_It's just as well that he doesn't wish to see me,_ Ganondorf mulled.

Among the other questions he barraged the servants with, he asked about the pregnant woman who he had seen in his tent. The young girl he asked seemed confused.

"You say... She was with child?"

"Yes, and she was sitting right there, reading-"

"Um..." The servant hesitated. "What did she look like?"

Ganondorf described her, but no recognition crossed her face.

"I don't know that any women around here are pregnant right now. When did you see her? Perhaps you saw her when you were ill?"

Ganondorf did not like to face the possibility that he was hallucinating, but he surrendered to the girl's suggestion once he realized she could provide no answer. Perhaps this girl just didn't happen to know the woman.

Ganondorf laid low the following days, waiting for some news from Link's side of the tarp, and in the meanwhile Ganondorf cracked open his book and scribbled some notes best he could with his left hand. He had obtained a blank journal while in Castle Town, and mostly out of boredom, had made careless writings inside. With more time on his hands, he had more of an opportunity to do serious construction.

It was arguably one of the stranger parts of him; if anyone would ever happen to come across his writings, they would either be baffled or amused. They were almost absurdly romantic and colorful, which did not seem to be his personality at all, and in fact was not. One would get the impression that any piece he wrote was forced from some false personality-that the entire style was some sort of ridiculous charade. The clichés and romanticisms were so exaggerated and disproportionate that they didn't seem genuine or honest. But that was the frustration that he carried in being a hopeless analyst: he tried to mimic the beautiful lyrics he had seen before, but could only piece together a novella as though it were a machine instead of a living organism. It was another thing of beauty that he longed for and yet could not accomplish.

Nonetheless, despite his vast inability to write with any level of genuine passion, it was a hobby of his that he indulged when he knew his writing was safe from any outside observance. He was not a conceited author, at the very least, and was aware of the pretentiousness of his creations.

He slipped the book back under his things and saw an old man being led into the tent. The old man was at first tended by a sour, dark-eyed man, but the partner was dismissed and soon he and Ganondorf were alone.

"Greetings," the priest remarked somewhat clumsily. "It is the first time I've seen you awake, hmm? How are you feeling?"

Ganondorf was uninterested in these questions, but he recognized that a priest may have authority here and may also know what was going on, so he immediately demanded, "I wish to speak with Link."

The priest was unmoved, but nodded with understanding. "The servants told me that's all you've been asking for these past few days. Why is it so important?"

"It's none of your business," Ganondorf sputtered impatiently. "Why does no one around here manage to do anything? I have told you my one, simply request, and-"

"Your master is not going to see you," the priest finally deadpanned.

Ganondorf was irritated with the priest's tone. "Why?"

"I'm surprised you want to see him at all," the priest murmured. "After all, he _is_ the one who inflicted all of these wounds on you, isn't he?"

"Oh, _this?_" Ganondorf understood and motioned towards his right arm, which was by now bound in a sling. "This is no problem. We had a fight and it's all better now, see? He did this to me and _I_ broke _his_ wrist like it was a twig. There's no worrying over that anymore..."

The priest was a bit confused. "...What do you mean, 'anymore'?"

"Well, it's complicated, but now I can fight back, so by the goddesses, don't think you need to protect me from him." Ganondorf continued to sound like a broken record. "I must speak with him."

The priest didn't look convinced. "Perhaps I can arrange that for you... But in the meantime, I have a few questions for you."

Ganondorf sat up best he could with his wounds, not desiring to appear impolite, and the priest found a seat at his side. Ganondorf felt a bit awkward in this position, and wished he could take a seat himself, but his movement was still quite limited.

"You know," the priest commented, "your Master lied to us."

Ganondorf blinked indifferently.

"He told us you were attacked by thieves, in order to explain your wounds, I believe. But with a bit of prodding, he admitted that there was a bit more dramatic reason..."

"What exactly..."

"You saw the beast."

Ganondorf gave him an incredulous look. "What... You mean Lethe?"

The priest was aghast. "You call it by its name?"

"It told me its name," Ganondorf explained, a little surprised by the name's power here. "Why? Are you all familiar with the thing?"

For a good minute, the priest was speechless, but after fretting he found the strength to reply. "Well, you see... It _does_ travel, but we know of it."

Ganondorf spoke with haste, thinking he would finally be able to learn more about the things he encountered. "So what is it?"

"Sadly... There is little to no information about it." Before Ganondorf could betray his disappointment, the priest quickly added, "but what we do have is some old texts, if you don't mind leafing through them."

"Not at all!"

The priest yet fidgeted. "Another thing... Are you aware of your epilepsies?"

"My what?"

"Your _epilepsies_, sir."

Ganondorf spat and scoffed. "I don't know what your talking about. I haven't had one since I was-"

"You're relapsing."

There was silence and Ganondorf appeared stunned.

"Good day," the priest quietly bid, slipping out of the tent.

* * *

Ganondorf found his memory playing tricks on him. When he tried to think back to before arriving in the area, he could only remember the pleasing sensation of crushing the bones of his 'master.' Everything afterwards blacked out. A dry fizzing buzzed through his head, and at times he felt drunk without intoxication, and he would carry the constant nagging feeling that he had forgotten something.

But he tried not to worry about it for now. A servant girl had been assigned to both him and the boy, and he would count on her to watch for any similar lapses. The trouble was Link, as usual-he didn't know that he wanted Link to know about his condition. It was embarrassing and confusing to have to retrace his steps constantly and worry about collapsing into uncontrollable shivers.

Ganondorf had so long thought of it as a child's disorder that experiencing it now was unbearable. It was a problem he had only dealt with when he was very young, and he thought he had grown out of it, or miraculously healed himself-

Now it had returned and Ganondorf didn't know what to make of it.

However, the seizures grew shorter and sparser as the days went on. Soon enough, he went days without having one at all.

_Maybe this whole 'Lethe' business has just thrown me off_, he thought. It seemed reasonable. His health had taken strange turns, after all.

"Girl," he addressed the servant, "what was your name again?"

"...Rakel..." she shyly replied.

"Yes, Rakel. I need a favor from you."

"Of what sort?"

"I need Link in here."

Rakel sighed heavily. "I already told you, I can't-"

"Forget what they told you," he responded crossly. "They don't know how important this is, do they? Now get him in here."

When Link finally showed up, Ganondorf found him a bit worse off than he anticipated.

Of course, the boy's fingers and wrist were bound where he had snapped them, but Link did not seem to mind the breaks. Rather, Link was fidgeting over something else-apparently his nervousness over meeting Ganondorf.

He looked about, apparently unsure where Ganondorf would be sitting. "Hullo," he mouthed, "...Are you well?"

"No thanks to you."

Link looked ready to leave again, and Ganondorf finally understood what was going on. He _thought_ he recognized this look in the boy-he had seen it the last time Link was struggling to feign regret. "So?" Link finally managed, gathering his wits and shrugging. "What am I supposed to say? I would say I'm sorry, but..."

"Never mind it," Ganondorf dismissed. Not to be so easily distracted, however, Link carried on.

"You didn't like it the _last_ time I tried to apologize to you-now, what do you want to hear from me?"

"I don't need to be reassured of anything right now," Ganondorf clarified irritably. "I would like to know, on the other hand, your plan of action."

Without missing a beat, apparently because he had plenty of time to consider this issue, Link explained what he thought was best. "Well, as it stands, I don't think it would be at all a bad idea to stay here a while. They seem to be hospitable folk, and I haven't caught air of any suspicions... This village is pretty isolated from Hyrule, so they don't recognize either of us at all. The village goes in, generally, a good direction for that other village I said we're aiming for... That is, if you're still planning to travel with me."

This thought had strangely escaped Ganondorf, and now that he was reminded of the possibility, he was shocked by its plausibility. Without his connection to Link, he could easily walk away entirely.

It didn't make any sense to him, now that he examined it, why he saved Link at all. He recalled the dire impression that, somehow, Link was a tool-no, more personal than a tool: more alive and intimate-to have at hand in this journey. Ganondorf had been keenly aware at that moment of the possibilities, and he had considered abandoning the boy to his death. But why hadn't he? The impeccable logic he used no longer seemed sound.

He could have walked away.

But at the same time, he had no place to settle into. There had been that distinct pounding at his senses when he tried to picture a world without the boy-was it terror? Or some queerly vivid realization that without the boy, he was perfectly alone? Between their titanic struggle, he had suffered some sort of delusion that in fact they knew each other better than any other men could hope. Their sputtering hate, clashes of iron and sultry glares-it was as though these were the only times they were revealed in all honesty. All other dances were false, mere facades to entertain their audience, but between them, they were bare and intoxicatedly true.

Outside of this boy, no one had seen him, no one had spoken with him, no one had slept alongside him. All other perceptions, all of the countless men and women who ambled in his direction, had seen nothing of him but his mask. He knew, too, that Link suffered this same ailment. Ganondorf had seen it in the way Link regarded those nobles and the way he treated Princess Zelda. There were things-violent, dark things-inside of Link that only Ganondorf had seen. In that way, Ganondorf mused, using the words of an old friend as he did, they were more intimate than lovers.

Existence is a fickle thing, and Ganondorf was feeling the pressure of it. All he could see were countless faces, many of them having never heard of him or his accomplishments, and watch a history that had scrubbed itself clean of his infestation. Ganondorf looked on into a group of people who weren't aware of him, and to his dismay he could feel his existence being choked out.

Gasping, the Gerudo had no haven but the boy's promise to know him.

"I'll go with you."

"Why?"

Ganondorf's first order of business was to find the documents that the priest referenced. Apparently, there was literature to be had on this 'Lethe,' so it was instinctual for Ganondorf to seek it out before anything else. To arrive at his destination, however, he would have to make his way through the cluster of tents and people.

In the city, Ganondorf had felt the sky being crowded out by the oppressive towers and stone arches. Here, however, the sky seemed eternally tall. The tents gave their splashes of color across the grounds, but ultimately, every pole and arch of cloth pointed upwards, and everything-sounds, smells, sights-lifted in this direction. He could feel the breeze wrestle its way into the cracks and crevices of the village, teasing all it touched with a tug for the sky above.

But the world, lofty as it was, could not cure his apprehension.

The documents themselves, once he located them through various interrogations of villagers and the priest, were far from original and sparse in their existence. The histories were loose at best-there were copies of rubbings of old wall designs, but these were likely inaccurate and worn.

When he at first encountered a picture of Lethe, he mistook the picture for a horrifically hairy spider of some sort. In fact, it was apparently a form of it-a mangled mass of arms and legs, and a leathery face buried under the white, twisted flesh. All the other pictures were completely incoherent, save for a few depictions of a naked woman standing waist deep in a river, disproportionate arms strung out, grasping for the fading relief of a skull sinking into the water.

The written information did not help much, nor was there much to be had. There was a tentative guess at its age, originating in observations of the language depicted in the oldest drawings found. Many of the drawings, he had noticed, had strange, black, wiry symbols crawling from the figures' mouths. This, apparently, was a language of some kind-but the patterns appeared excessively complex.

"Origins, unknown. Species, unknown. Age, unknown."

With a frustrated grunt, he turned to another page, and there something caught his eye. The text went on to speak of the 'figures' who would habitually follow in Lethe's path. These were the 'memories' he had seen-apparently, these memories were rather concrete. They were characters; they were fragments of living, breathing people, long lost-

_The most common fragment takes the form of a young, unclothed boy._

_There are three other common forms these memories are known to take: A harlot woman who is lost and demands love, a hanged man, and a drowned, pregnant woman._

A pregnant woman?

Ganondorf ravenously searched the texts for any sketches anyone might have made of these memories, but could find nothing.

_She didn't look drowned_, he reasoned. _But still..._

He had already seen the harlot woman and the hanged man.

They were just waiting their turn to visit him.

_What in Din's name is going on here?_

_

* * *

_

_Lethe. Records of sightings of this peculiar organism are known to be dated as long ago as Hyrule's Second Age, before the establishment of a unifying government. Lethe seems to mostly reside outside of Hyrule, to its northwestern border. Folklore in these villages has long maintained scattered reports of a 'demon' who has vampyric or canniballistic natures, and most of these reports are largely consistent with each other. The offenses that villagers hold Lethe responsible for can vary. Some accuse it of killing virgins, livestock, and young men, but it may be that these allegations are merely classic examples of native folklore and nothing more._

_The memories surrounding it are far less elusive than the actual being. The memories apparently have interacted with the villages for centuries, while the actual Lethe has never made contact._

_Whether Lethe is malicious or intelligent is up to debate. Its actions over the centuries have shown it to be passive-aggressive: it does not hunt, it merely drifts and may attack if confronted. Thus, few people have seen it, and many question its ability to think._

_Lethe has proved to be very elusive and withdrawn from the world around it. So, most information available is, at best, tenuous._

* * *

"Ra'zmar," Link addressed, clearly in Gerudo and clearly in Ganondorf's direction.

Ganondorf was a bit puzzled by the name, but adopted it since his true name was temporarily taboo.

Things had to pull quickly into play again, and Ganondorf felt a degree of normality (if one could call it that) returning to their relationship. Both had exchanged blows, though by no means evenly, and now they felt a new understanding of each other's boundaries. Link knew better than to embarrass his older partner, and Ganondorf knew better than to stab at past unpleasantness.

They were again role-playing in the scheme of things. Link was his master, and he was a slave. Ganondorf decided things could be worse.

Ganondorf didn't quite get the point of walking around so aimlessly-Link wasn't really going anywhere yet he still required Ganon to follow. Rakel, the servant girl, had been given orders to show Link around camp. This gave way to the strange sight of watching a girl lead her blind master while a baffled slave pursued both of them.

The servant girl tried to reason with Link, but it was hopeless to try and change the boy's mind once it was made. "Please, I just want to know what you're doing, wandering about like this..."

"I want to look at the camp," Link stubbornly maintained.

"But you can't-"

The servant girl paused and her comment was preemptively dismissed. Link made an exasperated look, and sputtered uncontrollably, "_Shut up_, you stupid girl."

The servant was visibly flummoxed and upset, but Link was so caught off guard by his own loose tongue, that he gave them both a false, brilliant smile and resumed in his pointless journeying. The beast had erupted only so dimly, and now that it was submerged beneath its whimsical depths, it didn't seem relevant to complain about it-so the servant girl did not comment on it, and even though he wanted to, Ganondorf did not either.

Link went on to desperately bury it with social inanity. There was a man selling some goods well near the center of the camp, and Link was trying to goad Ganondorf into a conversation, as though discussing chewing gum and black powder would heal their ailing and cure the undeniable fact that neither of them were quite real enough to-

Link was terrible liar and yet somehow that made him all the more majestic and beautiful, like the austerity of cracked china- A man who knew who he was but fought against it with every last breath-

"Do you know what this is, Ra'zmar?"

Link was waving a small, white, cylindrical object. It looked like a thin roll of paper, but what purpose it had, Ganondorf did not know.

"Had a lot of these in the war," Link told him, pressing it to his lips, embers hissing and glowing at its tip. "They're-you know-like pipes, but you just roll the tobacco up. Not as good, but you can buy them in bulk, it's a lot cheaper, and it's easier to pack; you smoke too, don't you?"

Ganondorf hadn't been listening and so the question lost its genuine context. He blinked and lazily tried to find out what Link was talking about.

Link gave him a knowing look. "That _is_ why you stole my pipe, isn't it?"

Link tried to buy him some; Ganon, recalling his last attempt at smoking, declined as politely as he could. There was such a passive sort of violence in Link's eyes that he was at first afraid of refusing the offer-then he realized that this symptom was merely Link's dedication to denying his instincts. Everything in his flesh craved to kill Ganon where he stood, but his other half, the half that Ganon despised, wanted to love him, like a friend, like a brother...

-It was a mind-boggling affront to all that Ganondorf held valuable, and so he would do his best to suffocate it where he found it. He did not care how right or how possible it felt-they were designated their roles and this, above all, was what Ganondorf knew to be true-

_'Ra'zmar,' _Ganon thought to himself, pawing the enclosing tent cloth, watching the sky puff with purple smoke and fade into din. _'Gerudo for 'Redhead.''_

His tent smelled toxic now that Link had dwelt in it, smoking his herbs, bantering like a drunkard. Ganondorf hated his new name if only because it felt too petty and affectionate, like a name one would give a childhood friend or a lover. It was this demeaning treatment, along with Link's utterly artificial compliance with his existence, that made him feel so constantly ill.

He wished Link would leave his tent. No, he wished Link would leave his _life_, leave him alone for once, since everything before they met had made so much sense to him. Now all was aptly confused, stripped of dignity and order.

Ganon wanted to sleep, and just before he did, he saw the servant girl gingerly flutter the tent's open flaps, watching Link go on endlessly about broken war stories and meaningless rendezvous. It was probably not the first time Link had bored someone to sleep with his ramblings, but for what it was worth, it was the first time Ganondorf had heard Link speak so mercilessly and uselessly.

"Are you listening to me?" Link suddenly demanded, but by then it was too late, and the servant girl had to gently guide Link outside. Even in his sleep, Ganon could feel relief.

Link was missing something and he let both Ganondorf and the servant girl know it.

The next morning, Link had spent hours feeling about his tent, rubbing anxiously at the base of his ring finger, and mumbling his thoughts aloud.

"I know... I _know_ it was here, I had only put it down for a minute-"

Ganondorf didn't bother asking about the issue because he figured it would resolve itself. Instead, the problem heightened Link's nerves and gave way to an incredibly frustrated Hylian.

"Have you seen it? It was right there."

After interrogating Link enough, Ganondorf finally found that the boy was looking for the silver-encrusted ring that he noticed earlier. Apparently, Link had misplaced it and was throwing a fit. Ganondorf was initially disinterested because, he reasoned, rings could be replaced.

"Don't be stupid," Link retaliated irately. "It's _important_. I can't just go buy another one like it-"

Once Ganondorf realized Link was not about to give up on the ring's cause, he begrudgingly agreed to help him search for it. The routine questions didn't prove helpful-Link knew exactly where he had placed the ring last, and knew for sure he hadn't left it alone for long.

Now, as though it had sprouted legs, the ring had vanished.

"It doesn't make any sense," Link sputtered frantically.

Link was so sure of his ability to keep track of the ring that he concluded it was stolen.

"Who would steal the damn thing?" Link demanded, as though Ganondorf ought to be able to answer. "Damn people with no damn _morals_!"

Ganondorf was feeling a headache coming on, and Link's cursing was not helping. The toxicity of his surroundings was getting to him, so he searched his best for someplace quiet. Ganondorf exited the tent in hopes of fleeing, but to his surprise, he found a group of men outside. They didn't appear exactly planned; it was more as if they happened to be passing by and overheard Link's upset, and so were dignifying them with a visit.

Ganondorf only recognized one of the three men. There were two important-looking men standing by a rich profiteer. Ganondorf had seen the rich man before: the greasy, sour-looking man, faking curiosity and noticing Ganondorf's presence.

As if on cue, the man glared at him disdainfully and asked, "Is that your master making all that racket?"

Ganondorf paused for a second, and had to overlook the man's struggle not to smirk. This didn't bode well. "...Maybe."

The two other men gave each other humored looks, but the rich man sneered in annoyance. "Don't get smart with me, slave. I wish to speak with him."

Ganondorf was tempted to respond with something juvenile, but bit his tongue and decided that, perhaps, an aggravated Link would be able to handle this man better. He turned into the tent. "Link, there are some _people_ here to see you."

"Dear goddesses," Link swore, making his way to the entrance. Ganondorf retreated inside and Link was already anticipating jerky behavior. "What on earth do _you_ want?" Link asked rather rudely of them.

They seemed to take it as a joke and didn't mind. The two other men introduced themselves as councilmen, and appeared to be good-natured. The rich man stood stone-cold, shaking as though someone had insulted him.

"What ho!" one of the councilmen jabbed. "What's the problem?"

The rich man shook off his demeanor, but asked Link icily, "Do you always let your slave call you by _name_?"

Even though the councilmen knew he was serious, they laughed it off and told him not to worry about silly things like that.

Ganondorf watched them shake hands, and he couldn't help but believe that the rich man was doomed to be a problem.

The conversation was short and pointless-Ganondorf was reminded of these men's inability to be interesting, so he was about to move on and engross himself elsewhere. It was by a complete accident that Ganondorf noticed something at the rich man's finger, flickering in the sunlight.

It was Link's ring, nestled neatly at the man's knuckle, reflecting the smug smile at the thief's face. It was on the very hand that the man shook with, and the man looked too satisfied with himself to be ignorant of this irony.

Ganondorf thought it was a crime worth disregarding, but once the men left, Link resumed his tantrum, and the Gerudo decided that perhaps a confrontation would be necessary. He didn't want to attempt a conversation with the rich man-he despised him already-but neither did he wish to deal with Link's upset any longer.

The entire situation was steep with insult, and yet again, Ganondorf felt the blunt of it. This man had obviously snatched up the ring the moment Link had his eyes off of it, and was probably now trying to get Link involved in some twisted guessing game. The man probably thought letting Link shake the hand where he wore the stolen item was the first "clue."

This man wanted to see how long the blind Hylian would be unable to figure the game out. The insulting and degrading nature of this prank made Ganon's blood boil. He knew now from experience that Link did not appreciate being treated like a dumb cripple, and this man's entire ploy reeked of this mentality.

Ganondorf did not, at the time, think his decision not to tell Link about the situation was an odd one. He was perfectly aware of his intention: he did not want to expose him to this humiliation. Ganondorf was not about to tell him how this man was exploiting his one flaw for his own amusement.

Ganondorf was making the peculiar choice to protect the boy, regardless of the beastly fears and hatred.

_-Why are you looking at me like that don't you know who I am don't tell me what to do I know who you're sleeping with BE QUIET THE STUPID WHORE ASKED FOR IT SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUT-_

"Um... Sir?"

Ganondorf blinked wearily, and shot up with a start. To his surprise, he was in bed, feeling dizzy and confused. He looked about his tent, but nothing seemed out of order. Only the servant girl sat with him, glancing over him with concern.

"Are you alright?"

He sputtered and fought against the disorientation of his thoughts. "Wh-where-?"

"You fainted into one of your spells..."

"I did?"

"Yes, after the fight."

"Fight? What fight?"

Now the servant looked worried. "You don't remember anything?"

Ganondorf gave her an exceedingly annoyed look. "_Of course I don't_. Ow-" His temple was throbbing violently from the stress of recollecting himself.

According to Rakel, he had been out for several hours after a sudden collapse. This, he supposed, was not so unreasonable, but for some reason he felt a large gash in his memory, vaster than any other lapse he had felt before. There were frightened sounds, angry words and thoughts crowding into his memory and forcing the native memories out. It was as though he was now under assault by some foreign bodies groping for a chance to be remembered and were even willing to eliminate competition.

All he remembered was... These angry words filling his head, none of them his own...

_YOUWHOREI'-_

"Sir?"

Ganondorf shook and snapped back into focus.

"I'm sorry," Rakel apologized, "but you spaced out again. Do you need some water?"

"Uh-"

_HOWDAREYOUTALKTOMELIKETHATI'-_

"-Y-yes, water would be good-"

The words were getting worse by the minute, but Ganondorf tried to disregard them, work them gently into his rhythm of thought, and not recognize its content. Curiosity still took its toll, and he would occasionally listen with interest, but the argument (as he thought it must be) would degenerate to screamed profanities and lose context as a result.

Ganondorf just hoped the voices would leave eventually, as the other voice had, and meanwhile faked normality.

"Where's Link?"

"Link is angry with you; I don't think you should speak with him right now."

_Oh, great_. "What's wrong with him?"

"You know the ring he was missing? He found it in your things. He thinks you stole it."

"Oh, gods." Ganondorf gave her a faintly irritated look. "And the fight you mentioned earlier?"

"I don't know why," she began cautiously, "but you were verbally assaulting that rich slave-owner, and apparently struck him and-"

"I _did_?" This was bittersweet news. He had gotten his revenge of the man, and apparently also recovered the ring, but sadly, he didn't remember a minute of it. "Huzzah!"

The servant girl didn't seem so thrilled. "I don't see what's so good about it. Now _he's_ mad at you, too."

"Oh, let him be angry. He's a cretin anyway."

"A rich, _powerful_ cretin who has a lot of influence here," she corrected. "He is the only slave owner who lives here-and he has twenty of them. That makes him a valuable asset. If he decides he does not like you, he can and will destroy you."

"Well, whatever," Ganondorf mumbled. The man's ability to smite him did not make Ganondorf feel any less hateful.

The servant girl shook her head in disagreement, but voiced her opinion no more. She did add, however, the suggestion that Ganondorf not stick around much longer, lest Link show up and (in her words) "beat you to a point just shy of death."

"I think he needs a night to cool off," she explained. Ganondorf didn't doubt it, seeing the fit Link was throwing earlier over the prized possession.

Ganondorf didn't understand how important the thing could be, anyway.

* * *

Sleeping outside always felt more... Real to him, in a way.

The night had fallen in a thick layer of clouds and wind. For a few minutes, he followed the wind, drifting lifelessly down the corridor of tents and ribbons, and finally he arrived at the camp's outside borders atop rolling hills and yawning forest.

His flesh was so unsettled that he decided he wanted a doze. The hillside made for a comfortable spot, and so there he lay, near death, near nonexistence-

Ganondorf awoke suddenly when he heard a noise-it was soft and barely audible above the sigh of the passing breeze, but he knew that he heard it. It shook him enough to arouse him from his sleep, and so he opened his eyes.

For a minute, there was no sound, and he almost dismissed it as a hallucination, but then it happened again, and this time it reverberated clearly.

It was sharp, muffled groan.

He stood up, and looked to the direction it came from. This was no voice settled in his head, and so he had actual means to investigate it. The more exhausted part of him did not want to know its source, but there were too many questions in his head now, and he madly desired some answers.

He trekked slowly, softly, not wanting to alarm any inhabitants and thus disrupt his search. The noise continued a bit erratically, but it was often enough to keep track of, and so Ganondorf found himself getting nearer and nearer. He eyeballed the surroundings seriously, looking to the silent, blistering row of tents, preparing to pick the offending structure. One of these tents, he knew-

-When he found it, he lost heart, and nearly backed off, but the gaping mouth of darkness before him was yet taunting him with secrets.

He took one step inside, and there was another cry, and then silence.

_Crack_. Ganondorf felt a nameless, tin object that didn't quite have a form in the obscurity of the night, strike his shoulder, and he heard a violent threat from inside the tent. There was a terrible smell in the air, like a foreign fragrance.

More swearing was directed his way, and with that, Ganondorf fled.

He could not sleep at all the rest of the night, and instead, he lay on the hillside, watching the tent from a distance, knowing what he heard and smelled. He also knew the voice, and it intrigued him.

And, just as he thought, as dawn approached, he saw two figures emerge: a rich slave owner followed by one of his young, male slaves.

_Now, things get interesting._


	7. the great divide

A/N: See? It didn't take too long!

Thank you all for hanging in there. I graduated in May and I'll be working for the next two weeks, but most of July I'll be in New Mexico chilling, with time to write (in between filling out forms for college!). Forgive me if the next chap ends up taking a while, too... It's a sort of hump in the story, yah see--the one that's necessary, and you just have to get past it.

With that being said... Enjoy, and also, thank you in advance for your reviews :)

* * *

**chapter 7: the great divide**

"I didn't take your stupid ring."

"It is _not_ a stupid ring--and if that's true, how did I find it among your things?"

"I don't know! Maybe somebody _put_ it there!"

"You're the King of Thieves! What am I supposed to think when this happens?"

-

That morning, Ganondorf's half-hearted lie was not going over well, and for some very valid reasons. Ultimately, Link was far too tired of the situation to believe anything other than his own theory. Ganondorf's reputation had rendered any other possibility void.

Ganondorf, though he understood Link's perception, was still unhappy at being accused so boldly. He harrumphed, wishing Link had chosen a later hour to discuss this--he had only just returned from his restless night. "I'm not an obsessed pickpocket, I'll have you know, thief lord or not." Ganondorf wearily glanced at the ring, seeing it safe in its owner's hand. "What does all of this matter? You have it back."

"Somebody _moved _it," Link maintained. "I'd _like_ to know, at least, why someone is touching my things!"

"'Somebody,' huh? Strange, I thought you already decided _I_ did it."

"Don't get snide," Link said. "I swear to the gods--"

Link was so busy vexing and cursing that Ganondorf was ready to slip away unnoticed. Things would be much simpler all around, Ganondorf thought, if the boy learned how to let go of the past.

"Don't leave," Link snarled suddenly, actually startling the older man. "Don't even think of it!"

Ganondorf was ready to fling some harsher words in return, but surprisingly, Link sobered.

"This isn't working," Link finally relented, a mysterious quiver in his voice. "I know the situation is a tad mixed up, but if we're going to have to manage being with each other, we'll have to learn to be honest..."

"_You want 'honest'?_" Ganondorf fumed as though Link had spoiled a game. "_Fine! I'll be honest--_"

* * *

What a world, that one can wield truth as a nastier weapon than lies. It was in these instances, when Ganondorf revealed the truth of the matter only to find it toxic, that he questioned these people's worship of sincerity. Link would never hesitate to say that truth is always better than falsehood, but there he stood all the same, dealt the blow to his pride which could have been prevented through dishonesty. 

_False idols_, he thought wearily. But his revelation hadn't spared him much of Link's bad temper. All the truth of the matter had really done was yield Link's emotions obsolete and castrated--he struggled to stay angry with the Gerudo, but they both knew how false it really was.

Link was embarrassed.

If there was one thing Ganondorf despised, it was watching other people be embarrassed. His distaste was not one made from sympathy, but rather, it reminded him daily of what sort of person he was: a strong man shrouded in secret terrors, dreading the possibility that his pride may be the next casualty of society's seemingly senseless thirst for blood. That was why Ganondorf needed command of social mechanisms--if he didn't control their every move, how else could he prevent them from consuming him? The ballistics of malicious rumors, of shunning, of peer pressure and scorn, of backstabbing and--

Oh, how did these people, these miserable little people with no purposes to their lives, survive the battlefield that is social interaction? How could they possibly talk to each other without feeling acutely disgusted or terrified? There are no rules. There is no safety or order.

He had long defended himself from these attacks by plunging into bizarre relationships, and befriended the strangest of men, allowed them into places where no one else had ever been. He had been told since he was a child that men were the weaker sex, stupider and more likely to allow their emotions to control them. He believed it then and still held it to be true. He had in truth always felt better than other men, always seeing himself as their more sophisticated and intelligent counterpart, but it did not stop him from wanting to be around them constantly. Stupid, yes; weak, yes; but Ganondorf was fearless when among them, and so he felt empowered, and he craved this empowerment.

He was a god among men.

It led to the darkest of things and the most hellish of fantasies, all long lost by now, and even the least shameful of his youthful desires were now sunken in the frivolity of adulthood.

-

_Speaking of men_,he proposed, shaking these thoughts off and preparing to move on, _I may as well investigate that slave owner._

The situation that struck last night had indeed piqued his curiosity. If his instincts were not lying to him, then the future was bound to hold some scandalous confrontations.

Ganondorf was getting a taste for scandal, anyway, and saw it as another not-so-innocent way to alleviate his boredom. The first step, obviously, was to interrogate the criminal, so he decided to again survey the village. Looking for the man couldn't be too difficult, he thought. The man owned plenty of slaves and was bound to be wherever they lived.

Ganondorf had little experience with the Hylian institution of slavery. Any necessary work in his tribe was always accomplished by the Gerudos themselves, so there was no need to consider getting involved in the slave trade. However, this hadn't kept him from internalizing the same Hylian prejudices. Slaves were criminals, low-lives, unintelligent, and uncivilized. They were all that a community could not handle, so they were deduced to these levels to keep them from making trouble.

At least, this was how society viewed them: how accurate this was in real life had yet to be revealed. Whatever the case, Ganondorf was uninterested. Wherever the slaves were, the master couldn't be too far away. He had learned to hate the man with all the fervor of his heart, and knowing of the fight he lapsed through, perhaps a conflict would prove amusing.

He left his tent and was quickly lost in the maze of identical tents. He didn't truly know where the slaves were kept, but he had no doubt in his mind that they would be kept on a separate piece of land somewhere.

-

"Ex-_cuse_ me," a voice presented crossly.

He turned nonchalantly. "Wha--?"

It was Rakel. He immediately prepared for an inconsequential lecture. "Where do you think you're going?"

The air was unnaturally still. He looked past her, seeing the expansive forest just beyond the tents. "I'm finding the slave grounds," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"Link asked me to."

The girl had to dwell on that a moment before defining her suspicions. She crossed her arms and made a disbelieving face. "Are you lying?"

"Good girl," he doted, really not paying attention to her upset. "Tell me where it is, won't you?"

She sighed and looked ready to move. If she didn't surrender the information soon, he would move on--he didn't want to waste time.

The girl grudgingly extended her arm, pointing west. "Do you see the yellow tent?"

He studied the landscape and indeed found a towering yellow tent overlooking the rest, certainly giving off the intended vibes of importance.

"That is where he lives. Behind that, there is farmland. That is where the slaves live."

"How will I tell which tents are theirs?"

She snorted. "Oh, you'll be able to tell, all right."

-

Ganondorf was quick to feel out of place in the sad excuse for a campsite. The arrangement of dingy shelters hid beneath the overhang of trees, clearly built wherever there was the most protection from the elements. He at first saw no one, and almost believed the place to be abandoned, but as he came closer, his presence was noted by an array of hostile eyes.

They were crouching nonchalantly beneath the tents, their gazes devoid of any hope or humanity. Some smoked, some tended to burning fires and reeking meals, but most of them were just sitting there, not speaking any words or expressing any emotion.

"We shouldn't be here," Rakel said behind him.

He didn't need her to remind him of this fact. But he wasn't planning on being in this place long. He just had to find the master and begin initiating his plan.

The first obstacle was readily apparent. "...Where is he?"

Ganondorf scanned the area somewhat desperately. If the man wasn't here, he may lose his chance. He had to find the man now, and as fast as possible, lest someone intervene. Rakel worried him enough with her hounding--he didn't need another problem.

"Maybe he isn't here," she thought aloud, unhelpfully.

Ganondorf couldn't stand to waste anymore time, and as much as he loathed the thought, he would have to ask one of the slaves. They may well know something about his suspicions.

He searched, feeling more like a hunter stalking its prey than a man looking for someone to speak with. The group of slaves--the herd--crowded too inwardly, and he was sure that any questions would be disrespected in the face of the barricade. He sought a vulnerability, a weakness in their wall that could be exploited for his use.

--There. A smaller one scuttled frantically from the ring, lured by some promise that he did not see. Ganondorf saw his chance and took it.

"Hey!" He stepped forward forcefully, and Rakel, alarmed by his movement, pursued him.

His senses, which had been for so long subdued, heightened in response to this chase. For just that while, he started to feel alive! The earth had a scent once more, and the pace he kept felt more free. Perhaps, for just this moment, he would be occupied and further saved from monotony.

He was so thrilled by the prospect that he barely paid attention to the slave he was so hastily confronting. Had the slave not grunted to make its presence known, there was little stopping the Gerudo from inadvertently trampling it to death.

The slave was much smaller than he had expected--but then again, he was a poor judge in calculating such things from a distance. The next few details came to him without any more thought: it was a young slave, and male.

The boy turned to him, looking more annoyed than frightened. Ganondorf blinked.

-

Beforehand, he had mentally sketched out exactly what he was going to say, down to every nuance of the question. He had rehearsed it in his mind as he approached the slave, positive that it would yield the result he desired.

...But suddenly, after realizing just _who_ he was staring into, he forgot every word of it.

"Do you need something?"

The boy's voice was steady, which was somewhat surprising to him, considering...

He tried to reply but failed. "Ah..."

-

It was the boy. _The _boy. Ganondorf couldn't give the boy a straight look--the vivid imagery stood bold in front of him. He could remember so clearly how the boy had looked at the owner when he saw them standing together in the night...

Illness overcame him.

But the boy was not amused by his horrified look. He sneered and stepped back in disgust. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I... Uh..." Ganondorf fought to recollect his words and finally said, "I just need to know where your master is."

He didn't feel that the question was stated ideally, but it ultimately didn't matter: before the boy could respond, an older slave violently intervened, standing between them and snarling in the Gerudo's direction. "What do you want with my brother?"

Ganondorf was startled by the new presence; he hadn't seen or heard the other slave coming. However, he had no delusions. A slave boy and its obviously over-protective older brother would not be the ones to help. Ganondorf decided to cut the dispute as short as he could. "I was merely asking him where your master is."

The older slave eyed him suspiciously before answering. "And why do you want to know that?"

"I have business with him."

"I don't know where he is."

"...Where _could_ he be?"

The slave had tuned out; Ganondorf refused to give up.

"Will you _listen _to me?"

It was then that the slave boy looked to his brother and spoke a phrase. It seemed unworthy of attention, as Ganon heard the boy encouraging the other to answer his question and move on, but he suddenly realized that they were not speaking Hylian or Gerudo.

He would have moved on, but he had _understood_ them.

It was an understatement to suggest he was surprised--he didn't know of any language-interpreting spells, so that certainly wasn't the culprit--and he wasn't quite sure what to do now that an unknown language had suddenly been thrust upon him. The words were foreign, but they flowed through him effortlessly and with perfect meaning, as though by only feeling the words' shape and texture, he could interpret them.

While he stood baffled by the discovery, the slaves took notice and clearly thought he had gone mad.

'_What is the matter with him?_' the younger one inquired.

Ganondorf opened his mouth, and the words came out without premeditation, strained by the complete shock in his voice. '_There is nothing wrong with me.'_

Their eyes went wide and Ganon then knew which party found this the most unexpected. The older brother said in astonishment, '_You are from the Mrabi tribe as well?'_

Good _goddesses,_ he had never _heard_ of them. He tensed. '_Oh, yes.'_

'_You do not look like a Mrabi. Who was your father?'_

Ganondorf had hoped he wouldn't have to lie too far in, but now it seemed inevitable. He quickly threw together a name and was ready to speak it, but his mouth rebelled and named another. '_Sefu.'_

This name acted like a switch: the moment it was voiced, the slave completely dropped every defense and laughed. '_I cannot believe it! Sefu was a friend of our father's. Surely it is the spirits who have brought these two bloodlines together again!'_

Ganondorf did not like this at all, for several reasons, but forced himself to allow it. The slave trusted him now; he may as well use that trust. '_Yes, certainly,'_ he weakly confirmed. '_...But now... I still must know where your master is.'_

The slave snorted. '_It must be quite urgent for you to be this persistent. Very well... He ought to be returning from an errand, so I would say... Head immediately north, you should run into him.'_

Very much desiring the conversation to end, Ganondorf pulled away as soon as these directions were given. He ignored the slave's next statement, in which there was a pledge of some sort of solidarity.

Rakel found him again. "I didn't know you could speak their language," she exclaimed, having watched the interaction.

Ganondorf shook uncomfortably. _Neither did I. _The entire episode had passed so quickly that he would have dismissed it as a dream, but this girl had seen it as well. He could feel a headache coming on. What had happened? He silenced himself, listening to the fading words behind him, but now his understanding had passed. The language was once again foreign; his tongue had forgotten it where he stood.

What accursed sorcery was this?

He tried to mentally grope out for the voice, for he was sure it was responsible. But his thoughts received no feedback. He tried to feel thankful for the brief gift--it had, after all, solved his problem--but a part of him began to wonder if his original plan was no longer a good idea. This thing, this "Lethe," was clearly helping him along. It... Wanted this. The fact unnerved him. He didn't trust it, nor did he trust what it desired of him.

He thought loudly, if one could do such a thing, hoping that if the thing wouldn't respond, it would at least hear him. _I don't know how or why you just did that..._

He tried to invent a conclusion to the thought, a "however," a threat, or perhaps a deal. But nothing came to him--and the confession stood alone, partial but true. There was simply nothing else to tell the being but his inability to understand it.

-

Now, what else to do but follow where the trail lead him?

Ganondorf went on his way, trembling with such excitement that he nearly forgot his plan of action. But the boy's image burned in his memory, and nary a blink could pass without the slave's face staring back at him...

Did he seek a sense of vengeance on the slave boy's behalf? The thought hadn't occurred to him before. No, he decided after careful consideration--he didn't really care where the boy ended up. All he could feel was an overwhelming disgust with the boy's master.

Yes, he wanted to see the man squirm.

Rakel's mannerisms betrayed her increasing unease, and he knew he would have to deal his blows quickly: she was sure to flee and bring Link in to break up any conflict.

He didn't worry over this prospect much.

-

The man had a bruise at his eye. Ganon felt laughter swell in him when he realized it was his own handiwork from the day before. He was sorry to have missed it.

The slave master demanded to know what he wanted; he pressed back among other men, but not a lick of fear was in him. No... The man wasn't scared, he was merely daring him to come closer into their ring, where he knew he would not stand a chance. He was a slave--they were powerful. The bruise had only happened when they were alone, after all.

-

"Are you married?"

The man just stared at him.

"Do I stutter?" Ganondorf started to laugh softly. "I asked you if you are married."

"What has that got to do with anything?" the man asked angrily.

"It's a simple question," Ganondorf goaded. He was amused by the increasing agitation in the man's face. The man was clearly debating what knowledge must have inspired this question, and grew hesitant upon considering some of the possibilities.

"I don't have to answer to _you._"

This was true; he didn't. But the question was noninvasive, and to avoid it in front of his peers would seem strange. They knew the answer and didn't find it consequential. A few laughed and the man glared at them.

"Shut up. I'm going."

Ganondorf pursued him, even though the other men were becoming increasingly hostile to his presence. "Why are you afraid to answer me?"

"I'm not _afraid_."

"...Could it be because of that boy?"

The man turned as though offended, but looked puzzled by Ganon's allusion. "What boy?"

"That boy--"

"Goddesses, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a grown man--I don't know any boys."

"Oh, you know this one quite well."

A line was being drawn; Ganondorf could feel it form as he spoke, and the thrill it gave him made him shiver.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He could hear the terror resonate in the pit of the man's voice; the victim sputtered as though his words were spilling out in a torrent. Ganondorf knew he was working him perfectly. "The slave boy you invite into your tent at night--what is his name?"

-

Rakel ran for it, but Ganon did not mind. He thought it only proper that Link should enjoy the spectacle as well.

The man's face had turned beet-red; he had already proceeded to scream profanities with incredible zeal, so much that Ganondorf was convinced he would pass out at any moment from the exertion. Fortunately, the man was not about to launch any attack--he had a terrific voice but no physical prowess to back it up. No, he merely stood his ground, spewing and swearing upon every deity known to man. It was quite amusing, but Ganon soon found it tiresome. Grown men throwing tantrums, after all, did not tend to have much in the way of variety.

"H-how _dare_ you say such a lie!"

The other men shrank back, possessed with discomfort. Ganondorf was almost disappointed by their surrender--he had expected them to be a more interesting addition to the clash.

"I don't know _what _you're talking about! What slave boy? I do not even speak with my servants, how would I--"

...Why do men leap so overeagerly at their own defense, even when the accusations are so poorly expressed? Ganondorf had thrown out the words carelessly, with no evidence to support his claim. Yet the man's ego had been dealt a swift blow, and so still he clamored and roared. Ganondorf felt awash will repulsion and guilt, not because of the upset, but because he realized suddenly how very pointless it was from the beginning. This was not work; it required no intellect or planning. It was cheap, tasteless...

The man continued to rant; Ganondorf was so overwhelmed by the dire lack of meaning that he was forced to walk away. The man was greatly puzzled by the retreat: the slave had, after all, just spoken boldly to him, and then started to leave as though nothing had happened.

"Where are you going?"

The man gave up on him, and this brought Ganondorf much relief.

Ganondorf inadvertently ran into Link on his way back.

"Oh, _there _you are!" Ganondorf had not spoken a word: Link could recognize the Gerudo by his very breath, and so with even a gasp or a huff, Ganon could betray his presence. "I thought you would be in a scuffle by now."

"I lost interest," Ganon confessed.

Ganondorf kept moving, and Link followed, apparently intent on learning more. "What exactly were you doing?"

"Nothing."

Link snorted. "Forgive me, but I don't believe you."

-

"Who are the _Mrabi_ tribe?"

Link was understandably reluctant to change subjects to suddenly, but Ganondorf was not about to speak on his intentions, so Link indulged him. "_Mrabi_?" The Hylian sounded as though the term were familiar to him. "...Where did you hear about them?"

"Someone told me that the slaves were _Mrabi_--"

"Someone told you wrong," Link hastily dismissed. "People do not enslave _Mrabi_."

This was a curious development. "Why not?"

"_Mrabi_... Are known for their strange magic. They are very clever, and quite ruthless in taking revenge..."

"'Strange magic'?"

They had arrived at Link's tent, and so without further ado, Link stepped inside. "Are you still not going to tell me what you were doing to him?"

Ganondorf felt like they were waltzing; for every step forward, the other stepped back. In two men of such opposite priorities, learning from each other took twice the effort. "What I was doing to him isn't important--"

Link released a long, tired sigh. Ganondorf thought it rather rude, but went silent. The boy folded his arms, suddenly complaining, "Goddesses, I can't believe you've got nothing better to do than bully some man..."

Ganondorf was offended by the epithet. "'_Bully_'? I'm not _bullying _him. If anyone's a bully--"

"I understand, alright?" Link interrupted wearily. "He's an _evil man_ and you're some sort of _martyr_ for standing up to him."

The Hylian sat down, and Ganondorf was left puzzled. He had thought Link would share his sentiments towards the slave-owner. "You speak as though I act wrongly."

"You're only doing this because of a personal grudge."

"What are you talking about? Of course I have a grudge, after what he's done--"

Link ceased listening. "I don't want anymore stories."

Ganondorf could not believe what Link was so suddenly implying. "_Stories_?"

"Do I look stupid?"

Link was upset, and by what, Ganondorf was not sure. It was something Link had dragged into their conversation from elsewhere, as though he had spoken to someone beforehand and was just now beginning to respond. This made the Gerudo suspicious.

"You've obviously not been getting along with the man, seeing as you attacked him yesterday, so why am I not surprised that, suddenly, he's the root of all evil?"

"I'm not lying. Last night--"

"I've changed my mind; I don't even want to know. If you're going on some crusade, please just..."

It felt like an eternity before Link finalized his words with a silent turn, leaving Ganondorf insulted. What was it that made the boy so irritable all of the sudden? Ganondorf tried to read whatever brief expressions he had seen, to perhaps interpret the words a little further. There was a hint of betrayal, almost, in Link's voice, but this made no sense. Ganon had promised him nothing. Why should he feel betrayed?

Ganondorf was a busy man, the sort who would adopt plans and commit to them with nearly religious fervor. But he never seemed capable of understanding that his work taxed those around him as well... It was a weakness, a strength--it really depended on the circumstance...

Link only wanted to move on, but Ganondorf had his target and no force of nature could make him turn away.

-

_Please just do it on your own I don't want to deal with it I'm tired I'm tired._

* * *

A flustered councilman, wielding a piece of parchment as though he worried it would turn on him, appeared at Ganon's tent. The man stood with great hesitation, unsure whether to attempt entrance or to simply wait--although neither option seemed particularly desirable. The councilman gave his surroundings a panicked review, hoping no one was watching. 

He nearly pulled himself away, but Ganondorf called from inside. "Do you need something?"

The councilman nervously laughed and turned to the entryway. "Ah--ah, yes," he stammered, rolling and stuffing away the paper. "May I come in?"

Ganondorf, although he was not in a good mood, felt generous. "You may."

The councilman fidgeted greatly, withdrawing the paper once again. "I--ah--I found this--"

Ganondorf gave the sheet an unconcerned look before confirming, "That's mine, yes."

"And you left it...?"

"Was I correct in thinking you were the ones to give it to?"

The councilman looked stupidly at him. "Ah... Most correct..." he murmured uncomfortably.

Ganondorf arched an eyebrow. "You sound as though--"

"I just have a few questions, that is all."

The councilman did not even look at him--not that Ganon minded. He had very little interest in socializing, so this political figure's eagerness to move on was appealing. "Do go on," he goaded.

Sweat beaded at the councilman's brow and so he padded at it with a handkerchief, and he sniffed dryly. "I... Ah... Would it be any trouble to get this signed by your master?"

"Why would you want him to sign it?"

"Well... You see, we cannot pass slave testimony through without the master's confirmation."

Ganondorf would have been offended, but the issue was easily resolved. "That's fine--give it here."

Looking momentarily satisfied, the councilman handed the paper over, but was overcome with horror when Ganondorf took a quill and began writing himself. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm forging his signature," Ganondorf informed him bluntly, surprised at the man's ignorance. He looked down at his quick imitation, but frowned when an absent thought came to him. "Damn. Hold on a minute."

The councilman, looking quite hopelessly puzzled, stood where he was. Ganondorf pushed himself past, and hastily made his way to the neighboring tent.

"Link?"

Link grunted affirmatively.

'_I was just wondering if you have a last name.'_

Ganondorf thought it a natural question to bring up, but he found that Link apparently thought it sensitive. The boy staggered outside to address the question face-to-face, temperamental as usual. '_Why on __**earth**__ do you need to know that?'_

Ganondorf didn't see a point in hiding his purposes. '_I was signing something for you. It just occurred to me, I guess.'_

Link looked prepared to object by the principle, but after a fitful reconsideration, he seemed to give in. His head lopsided, he sighed through clenched teeth, and he played along. '_Before I answer, can I ask what you 'signed for me'?'_

'_I thought you might not want to be bothered with it_,' Ganon attempted to justify, hearing the testiness pervade through his voice.

'_Well, you're bothering me now, aren't you?'_

Ganondorf was at a loss for that one. '_You signed in support of my crusade against the root of all evil,'_ he tried to joke, though in retrospect, it was perhaps not the best moment to try to lighten the mood.

Link just stared and ended the conversation with an irritable murmur. ''_Link.' That's all I am. Just 'Link.''_

Link went back inside his tent and Ganondorf gave the parchment a half-hearted look. The scratchy forgery looked back at him, with that four-lettered word standing alone in the collection of elaborate scribbles: 'Link.' He couldn't help but feel dissatisfied with how it looked.

How could that word possibly encompass the man with whom he just exchanged words? He examined it up and down, right and left, but no--it was far too short, far too simple.

He blamed it on a compulsion; the quill danced fiercely, and Ganondorf crookedly smiled with a hint of relief.

'Link, the Hero of Time.'

-

The councilman accepted the paper but would not speak on its contents. Ganondorf wasn't too surprised--the detail with which he wrote his account would unnerve anyone.

* * *

Link hadn't dropped his interrogating tone, even as he spoke conversationally. Ganondorf spent the day awaiting any news from the council, so he didn't mind the boy's crossness, and to some degree reveled in it. 

Link had his own goals, however, and mysteriously vanished sometime in the early afternoon, when the sun was high and the trampled grass made its highest stink. Ganon's thoughts had gone a bit hazy, but they always did this time of day. It was the dull hour--the longest hour known to him, when activity all but ceased to exist. People never passed by, nor did they offer idle chatter. It was peaceful, but quite boring..

The humidity and heat reached unbearable levels. With nothing productive to accomplish, he retreated in the shade of his tent, and when this finally did not cool him down, he strewed across the bedding on the ground. He lay still--perfectly still--along the much cooler earth, feeling his body glaze and swell. An itch bit into his shoulder blade and he shifted irritably. Gods, he hated the humidity.

What a wretched place, he thought suddenly. The day before he was somewhat content with the people, but now he was glad that his existence didn't depend on them. He would loathe living here...

"--Ganon."

The secretive call roused him from his doze. He blinked and stiffly realigned himself; he didn't remember falling asleep, so he fought to regain his composure.

Link stood at a distance. "Is this a bad time?"

Ganondorf made an indiscernible sound, making it seem more inconvenient than it really was.

"It isn't really an impending issue."

"What is it?"

Link took a few steps inward, but still would not speak loudly. "After what happened, I thought it natural to try and speak to Din on this matter--"

Ganondorf had forgotten. When their connection was cut, Din's power had been clearly challenged. Ganon could only imagine the sort of tantrum she was throwing.

"She hasn't been responding."

The Gerudo considered this. "Not at all?"

"Neither her nor the others--not a sound."

Ganondorf never thought that the Hero of Time would have any trouble accessing the goddesses. Why, he was their spokesman--their very bridge to the mortal world!

Link attempted, and failed, to disguise his worry as irritation. "I will have to speak to a priest on this matter."

Perhaps Link had committed a sin and that had alienated him. It felt so strange to consider the possibility, but by now Ganondorf had learned Link's imperfections, his dabbling in whores and liquor... But that seemed so commonplace among these weak and troubled people. He didn't think that the goddesses would be so quick to isolate.

He was surprised by how suddenly his lips would word excuses for the boy's sake. He is blind--he has been in war--he is too young--the young are stupid, after all--

"Anyhow, once that clears up, we're leaving. We should move on."

"I see."

Ganondorf felt relieved by this news. Link left and the words still dwelt in him, following him into his feverish comatose, and as though the future opened up to him, he saw the horizon filled with waves, wind and sky weighing down upon it, a lifeless world, broken covenants... The goddesses were frozen, and so the earth drowned... They were distant, but Link felt further, and no stretch could--

_Heaven opened up and the rain fell_.

He shook with both adulation and horror.

* * *

Gershom snorted, sending a burst of hot air to Ganondorf's face. 

The musty smell of the stables made life seem simpler, however briefly. Gershom had enjoyed their rest and the time he spent in the village's stalls, and Ganon did not blame him. The villagers did not skimp on his horse's treatment; all around, he was reminded, they appeared hospitable.

He ignored his ceaseless thoughts and smoothed the broad side of his hand along Gershom's neck. He normally did not take comfort from such gestures, but in that moment, it reassured him. His experiences had been spotty as of late, and at times, he had lost touch of where reality ended and fantasy began... Each gap was filled with another dream, and each dream was more lithe. This feeling gave him clarity, and it was so perfectly thrilling and momentary that he could only be convinced that this was real and all else was false. Where doubt clouded the world, he could not question Gershom's genuineness.

Time would settle, and only then could he truly live in the moment.

Gershom shifted, forcing Ganondorf to sidle past him in the narrow confines of the stall. He was at first confused and irritated by the move, but the cause became apparent once Gershom returned to stillness. He could hear a conversation drift by--he at first ignored it, but he found that he recognized one of the voices.

He took careful means to keep his profanities subtle as he made his way outside. He didn't wish to scare the group away, but Gershom continued to make maneuvering a difficult task. Ganondorf had to push the horse aside to manage to stumble back out onto the beaten path.

The huddled group of people quickened their pace once his presence was known; it was clear that the gaggle was already engaged in conversation, and they didn't wish to be interrupted (especially not by the hands of a servant). But Ganondorf had eyed the councilman he desired to speak with, and their feeble attempts to look distracted did not phase him.

"Sir!"

They murmured, glanced over their shoulders, and pretended not to hear.

"I've been looking for you--have you any news?"

The identified councilman begrudgingly removed himself from the group as to spare them any further indignity and approached him with an equally reluctant smile. "I... Yes, I've..."

"Where have you been all day?" Ganondorf shot accusingly.

The councilman stammered but would not address that issue. "I've been meaning to tell you," he spoke, though his voice betrayed his dishonesty. "I'm sorry, but these statements cannot be presented."

The man dug the offending paper from his pocket, holding it out to the Gerudo in return. Ganondorf only stared. "Why?"

The councilman gave his fellows a quick, embarrassed look, then tried his best to explain. "There is no legal witness. Accusations can only be followed up with a witness--"

Ganondorf was boggled by what appeared to be a mistake. "_I'm_ the witness!"

"I..."

"Did you even read it?"

"Yes, I did, but you see, you cannot..." The man was so overwhelmed with discomfort that he shoved the paper forth more vigorously, bluntly informing him, "Slave testimonies are not accepted as viable evidence unless they are confirmed by a citizen's testimony..."

Ganondorf, stunned by the immediacy, did not reply. He merely snatched the paper from the councilman's hands and watched in muted rage as the man rejoined his partners.

-

Link was a little more than confused by how personally offended Ganondorf seemed to be. He had thought Ganondorf understood the role-play, as they had engaged in it for quite some time, but to be rejected so adamantly...

"Doesn't he know who I _am_?"

Link smirked and thumbed the glass bottle in his hand, and, in vain, tried to brush his hair from his perspiring forehead. He stood in the shade of the tent, appreciating the slight breeze that at last picked up. "I don't think so--isn't that the point?"

"It isn't right," Ganondorf returned weakly.

"If everything in this world were right, you wouldn't--" Link turned to where Ganondorf stood, and could feel the tension rise. He meditatively frowned. "--I guess I needn't finish."

"Why are you acting like this is some sort of joke?"

"Because," Link insisted, amused by Ganondorf's increasingly vexed tone, "it really _is _a sort of joke. Think about it, will you? It's actually quite ironic... _You,_ a man who has never shown an inkling of sympathy for any other person, have to face exactly what they do."

"I fail to see irony in that."

"You wouldn't question the validity of the institution, would you? You think it reasonable just like everyone else, because slaves are stupid savages and they deserve such treatment. Yet you, who I think we can both call 'affluent', for the mere label of a slave, have been dismissed."

Ganondorf could tell how far this was to go, but felt too tired to engage. He sighed and tried to end him there. "No, I don't see it. And I know what you're going to say, there isn't any need--"

"You don't think it _challenges_ any of your delusions?"

Ganondorf heard a familiar hostility in Link's voice, and at first had some difficulty trying to recall where he had heard it before. Then he remembered how Link had similarly attacked his philosophy those weeks ago, when he worked to pry guilt from him. If the result was going to be essentially the same, Ganondorf knew he did not want this conversation. The boy's feelings were hurt too easily by their differences (he didn't understand why; a disagreement of such simple degrees surely didn't warrant emotion), and in Ganondorf's mood, he was sure the boy's reaction would irritate him.

"They didn't dismiss you because of any substance, they did so because they assumed--"

"They made a perfectly legitimate assumption. But I'm not a slave, and that's where they were mistaken."

Link balked. "You can't exactly _blame_ them for that."

Ganondorf snorted, having heard those words many times before. He had the habit since birth: he would convict others for exactly what he tried to keep them from doing or knowing. He knew it illogical, but that did not stop him in taking a sadistic thrill in it. It was a game, a means of relaxation, to hold people responsible for what they could not control. "All the same," he uttered, as though thinking of justification, but he never completed the thought.

"You haven't learned anything from this, have you?" the boy asked intently, like this 'experience' were lost on him.

Ganondorf was somewhat boggled by the affront. "I wasn't under the impression that I was supposed to learn anything."

"I would think you would at least learn some understanding."

_Oh, goddesses, here it comes_. The holier-than-thou tone came into their exchange as subtly as an angry bull. Ganondorf, without any other means to defend himself, barked back, "I'm not a slave; I don't _need_ to learn to understand them."

"You could have just as easily been born a slave..."

-

Ganondorf, reeling, sputtered furiously. "That's... That's intellectual garbage, a lie!

"We aren't just personalities placed at random into bodies, we are living, breathing, physical people--we are defined by our bodies and our lives as well as our being. There is no 'if'--it isn't as though if I had never been born, I would have been born as someone else--we are born as who we are or we are never born at all! No... No, we cannot ever 'be' anyone but who we are now. You are Link; you will always be Link, no one else can be Link, and you will never _stop _being Link. As anyone else, you wouldn't be Link either...

"In no reality can we be otherwise, so why do you insist on worrying about people who you will never be? They are far from you; they will never even get close to who you are.

"_Sympathy_ has no substance. It's sheer fantasy, assuming we can take any form of humanity, when in fact we never do. I see no point in playing imagination games for the sake of guilt."

-

Link, to Ganon's surprise, did not explode with any particular objection. He merely paused and responded, "If sympathy is fantasy, why should I feel sorry for you?"

"I never wanted you to feel sorry for me."

"Should I ever help you?"

"I don't--"

"Seeing as you don't really exist to me. You're just an abstraction, right?"

Ganondorf expected this but wasn't phased. "You're perfectly welcome to continue as before."

"You say it isn't real, yet you want me to remain firm in it. That seems contradictory."

"Not at all," Ganon reasoned. "It only benefits me that you live on in your fantasy."

Smoke lifted into his eyes and he irritably blinked. Link wearily puffed at his pipe, and the two remained at a loss for words. They had spoken too long, they suddenly realized, for now the silence perturbed them and to speak of any other topic would seem unsatisfying. The stalemate was finally interrupted by the girl, and having run dry of all thought, Ganondorf left. Link spoke in wonderment afterwards, referring vaguely to how 'easily worked up' he was...

The sunset had already set the horizon ablaze. Ganondorf could not stand to devote his mind to anything else, and so it was there that the day ended for both of them.

Night had come, and Ganondorf was so, so glad.

* * *

_By the time sleep took him, he had forgotten the events of that day. So when a figure out of nowhere taunted him with erratic movements outside, he could make no connection. Ganondorf was ready to ignore the new presence; he assumed it was no more than a lost drunkard. But intentions became transparent--more was desired of him than a dismissive groan._

_A glittering blade, a peaceful invitation... Ganondorf was convinced that he was not awake, but still he pursued, drowsiness affecting him like a drug. Darkness covered everything, but the wildness of his terror was not subdued..._

_He could see nothing, but could hear Gershom's screaming. It made him angry because he had never heard Gershom scream before. Not in war; not in anything. But they humiliated him still, and it made Ganon's blood boil._

_He didn't understand it._

_He didn't know who they were_

_what they were doing_

_why they were doing it_

_but it made him alive and dead at the same time; it was a fleeting paradox. He felt he could do anything with the emotions churning inside of him, but instead he stood there, his head numb, his limbs paralyzed. He could do everything and nothing._

_He_

_just_

_stared even though he knew soon enough he would laugh and cry over it..._

_Scream, scream, scream, Gershom's legs flailed in the air, thud, gasp, quiet._

_Ganon held his breath for quite some time, for he was sure that the world would implode any minute. The shocking event led him to believe that the universe, as it currently stood, could no longer uphold itself, and would fall apart at the seams. But to his genuine surprise, the world seemed unshaken._

_He listened as they disappeared into the woods; he wished he could hear their voices or even their laughter, for that would attribute some sort of realism to their footsteps, but they were silent and provided him no company. The crickets sang evenly, giving him some rhythm by which he could conduct himself... He moved across the unyielding earth, the cool vapor swirling up from the crisp ground, making him shiver._

_The next hour was sluggish, damp, and dark. He crawled along the forest floor, reaching out to the dark mass that lay still before him, but that, too, was cold, and the chill encroached on him. It was a deeper chill than the one he felt from the air around him. It was more thorough and penetrating._

_He smoothed his hand across Gershom's neck; it wasn't the same. He gripped the jaw of the frozen doppelganger, and upon shifting it, he could see the marble-white eyes, staring wide with perpetual shock. He dropped it, the accusing gaze unsettling him, and finally made a fitful home where he was. He tried to push the body, but it only smeared dark, musty-smelling blood over his hands. He snorted with frustration and lay against the swelling carcass, hearing a low bubbling of blood and air from its stomach. The dead still moved, albeit only in tiny ways..._

_As he listened and found no voices, no other breaths to join him, he was dealt a vicious stab of solitude from which he knew he could never be delivered. His mind rushed with feeling: perhaps it was sorrow, perhaps it was anger, but the only thing for certain was that no one could help him._

_Ganondorf sat and waited._

* * *

Link felt a warm beam of light stream over his face. The sunlight promised another hot day, but the air had cooled considerably since the day before. He shifted and wondered what time it was, and whether or not he should get up. Link did not like these sort of vacations--he could not stand living this long without any work to finish. Idleness made him worried and possessed with thought; labor made him dull, yet reasonable. 

He felt a pang of regret as he huffed and forced himself awake. He decided that perhaps his demeanor had gone astray, and maybe he oughtn't allow his laziness to inspire his caustic responses. He did not, however, let this epiphany make him vulnerable. Though Ganondorf had certainly played the part of a subdued fool, Link sensed an increasing restlessness in him.

If I'm not careful, he thought, he may lash out.

Link was too groggy to think much further on the subject.

Today was going to be uneventful. He buried his legs under the blanket again, spreading his toes and hearing the cloth whine softly as his toenail scraped its surface. He snorted. Maybe he ought to stay in bed after all. That is, if Ganondorf doesn't stir anything up.

"Link!"

The cry was faint enough for him to disregard it.

"_Link_, get up!"

The sound of Rakel's footsteps could no longer be denied, and he moaned in a clear attempt to drive her away. His mood did not sway her; she raced to his side, gasping for breath. Hearing her distress, he mumbled, "What is it?"

"I-I'm sorry if I woke you--"

"Oh, no," he said, but not without some sarcasm. "It was about time for me to get up anyhow."

"Something's very wrong, and--"

Rakel stopped mid-sentence, made a glance outside as if ensuring their privacy, then spoke again in whispers.

"--Your servant just came back, covered in blood, and I tried to ask him what happened, but he wouldn't speak to me--"

Link didn't seemed completely moved by the report; he merely made a disapproving noise and spoke crossly, "Gods, what's he done now?"

The young girl was not convinced that Ganon was in the wrong, but she kept her doubts quiet. She could remember the face that the servant gave her when she inquired of him the blood streaking his hands. The man was distracted and didn't even seem to see her--he just looked through her, a deep sense of shame etching his features. If he had harmed another, she would have thought she would find pride, maybe relief...

"Well, lead me to him so we can get to the bottom of this."

Rakel had to admit she didn't know where the servant had gone. He had returned, true, but he came only to retrieve something.

"What was he looking for?"

"I don't know."

"He would say nothing?"

"He was too upset."

"Upset?"

Her doubts were inadvertently shared. Link did not think the response to be natural either, and so his attitude lifted.

"That can't be..."

Link's sword had been neglected the past few weeks, but no more. He searched his living space and found it loyally resting at his bedside, and though his more logical part of him reasoned that he would not need it, he couldn't deny the uneasiness he felt.

-

It did not take long to find Ganondorf; strangers who wandered about camp with bloodied hands did not go unnoticed. He had apparently made his business quick, for he had already returned to the woods from whence he came. It was there that they found him, although Link hadn't realized it then--Ganon was too quiet and too still to be sensed. The girl was the only true witness.

Ganondorf stood tall over the animal's body, clutching a knife and not quite remembering why he had sought it out. He looked over the cadaver but nothing could remind him.

"Oh, oh, goddesses," Rakel gasped when she recognized the body.

Link nudged her. "What is it?"

The girl battled her instinct to flock to the horse's side, but only long enough to sputter, "It's--it's your horse--"

She left him, ignoring his attempt to grab her arm. Link, for a brief moment, thought of Epona, but immediately knew that the girl was mistaken. She knew Ganondorf as a slave, and slaves cannot own things such as horses.

He didn't bother correcting her, even when she stirred up her anger towards Ganon.

"What did you _do_?" she demanded of him, storming over to him with a frantic scream.

Ganondorf was genuinely startled by her attack, having not anticipated the misinterpretation. Nonetheless, he found his wits soon enough to defend himself. "I didn't _do_ anything!"

"My goddesses, you _killed_ it--!"

Ganondorf nearly lost himself in his rage; he thought it blasphemous for her to even allow such a thought. Had he considered her point of view, which was naught but a man standing over a dead body with a knife in his hand, he may have understood.

But in his mind, the idea proved so ludicrous and unnatural, that he would not stand for it.

"_I didn't kill anybody!_"

He thought the outburst might dissuade her, but she didn't blink. "Then why are you holding a knife?"

He shot back at her, giving the body another anxious glance. "I was just, it was, it was the ropes, they had tied him--"

Link's voice interrupted them from a distance. "'They'?"

Ganondorf momentarily went quiet.

"Who's 'they'?"

"I don't know!" Ganon replied in vexation. "They covered their faces and they wouldn't speak to me, but they..."

Rakel snorted knowingly and again directed her frustration at him. "I told you not to mess around with him!"

Ganondorf didn't know what she meant at first, but then the warning came to him. _He's a rich and powerful cretin... _"Y-you think he--?"

She balked. "I _know_ he's responsible. I can't think of anyone else who can afford thugs."

"But that doesn't make any sense. The case didn't even go through; what does he have to be mad about?"

"You insulted him and belittled him in front of his peers; that's enough reason for him."

The sheer imbalance of the vengeance boggled him so that he sputtered, "_He killed Gershom for __**that**_?"

Rakel, unnerved at last by the tone of his voice, backed away. "Don't be mad at me! I'm not the one who did it!"

-

"Rakel, girl."

It was Link's voice once more cutting through the fray. He was closer for this assertion, and he motioned dismissively in Rakel's direction.

"Could you--just for a minute?"

She left and Ganondorf was glad to be relieved of her words, but he was left undecided on whether he wished Link to take her place. He would probably rattle off some emotional tripe; he didn't need that.

Regardless of what he thought, Link stood idly by and hesitantly spoke again. "So... You're sure he's dead?"

"I've been here all night; I'm pretty damn sure he's _dead--_"

"I was just asking."

Ganondorf knew then that Link had nothing of value to offer.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I have to move the body somehow."

"We can get people to do that for us--"

Ganon objected, "I don't want any one of them getting their filthy hands on him!"

Link rubbed his eyes nonchalantly, only charging the Gerudo's rage in the process. "How do you plan to do it alone?"

"I told you, I don't know!"

"Do you think Rakel's right?"

Pressure and fury pressed at Ganondorf's forehead; he swayed but the pain wouldn't lift. He would have rather screamed than answered. "The case didn't even..."

"I'm sorry." With that, Link had run out of words, so he stood breathlessly, waiting for Ganondorf to speak.

Ganondorf, pressured by this expectancy, stooped and cut away the last of Gershom's tethers. He wondered what Link could possibly be sorry for, but by then, he knew enough about Link to accept that perhaps it was nothing but condolence.

Inquiring of it would make no difference.

Even after all of the hours Ganon had spent alongside this body, he could still feel the terror in it. It made him cringe when it touched him--an unnatural experience for him--and so once the coils unraveled completely, he backed away in a huff.

'_Maybe I **will** need help_,' he mumbled in Gerudo, almost forgetting that Link could understand him.

'_I can get that arranged_,' Link replied earnestly.

He didn't feel comforted. He wished Link would cease speaking; it was horribly embarrassing for the both of them.

'_What if they attack me next_?'

'_They won't attack in broad daylight_.'

'_But in my sleep_?'

'_I do not mind sharing a tent in the night, if that is what you will need for the time being_.

'_It would be better to stick together. They may have the courage to attack you alone... But to attack me as well would hold repercussions_.'

For a minute, Ganondorf did not comprehend why Link had said what he already knew, but then it dawned upon him that the boy was merely reassuring him. It was a practice that they had engaged in since the beginning, albeit unconsciously: they did nothing for each other without strict justification. There was nothing more important than the superficiality of their relationship. If that failed...

'_Ganon?_'

He was subdued and would not answer, but Link was not deterred.

'_Are you alright?_'

Ganondorf let the question mull, and was graciously polite in his response. '_That's an awfully stupid question._'

Link fidgeted, almost cracked a smile, then looked into empty space with great concentration, trying to smooth over his mistake.

-

"It's you."

The slave owner stared at him dumbly. "I heard about your horse. You know who did it?"

Ganondorf knew he was bragging to his face, but for some reason he couldn't manage to be upset about it.

"I was quite shocked about it when I heard..."

Ganon foggily nodded, uttering in a desperate attempt to end the conversation. "I'll bet."

* * *

Ganondorf did not feel anything that day. He did occasionally feel some anger, but only at Link, for he continued to pester him with his shows of empathy and condolence. He didn't _want_ Link to feel sorry for him, and besides, he didn't really feel all that bad about it. It was a bit of a shock, granted, for it was certainly an untimely death, but he reasoned calmly that horses do die. Even if Gershom hadn't been killed, he would have died all the same at another time. Without question, Ganondorf accepted the cycle. 

Link seemed more upset about it than he was, and this was the trouble. It was beginning to occur to Ganondorf that perhaps he wasn't feeling the way he should--if a person who nary knew the animal was more crushed than its master, doesn't that mean something is wrong? He thought that maybe he wasn't grieving _enough_, that his emotions were broken and he needed to fix them for Gershom's sake. He would fervently try to feel the loss, but he found himself unmoved. What was wrong with him? Was he defective?

He felt numb from head to toe, with such a lack of sensation that even the slave master's words did not bother him. The man had returned a few times, flaunting his power over his existence, but Ganondorf did not mind his babble. No, nothing seemed to make any difference to him... He was paralyzed, not by fear or grief, but by an awakening: death had prevailed and pierced him, making an ugly statement of ownership. It spoke to him maliciously, just as the mob had done: _what I have done to Gershom, I will soon do to you._

He shook it away, pretending not to be disturbed by its frigid touch.

* * *

Link knew that another visit to the priest was in order. He could have gone earlier, but a reluctance delayed him. From the brief meeting yesterday, Link had decided he did not care for the man. He wasn't sure why, but he thought perhaps his dislike was related to the stench of the priest's tent: it smelled thick and odorous, a toxic fume that didn't dispel, even late in the day. Besides, the man's voice was gravelly and unkind. Furthermore, a feeling of dread distracted him. 

But Link had learned not to allow personal feelings to manipulate him. This was business.

-

The response Link received upon arrival--a gasp and an overeager yank inside--gave hint that the priest had been expecting him.

"I know who you are," the priest whispered dangerously.

Link, a bit dense from the events of that morning, did not catch the man's drift. "I would hope so," he said dryly, thinking it a stupid statement.

"Hero of Time."

The title called him to attention immediately.

"I also know who your traveling partner is, which brings us to an important question: why are you, two mortal enemies, together?"

Surely, Link thought, Din would have explained it to the priest, but he deemed it unimportant. He gave his answer calmly. "Din, for reasons beyond myself, decided it would be so."

"You speak the truth?"

Link took a tenuous breath, sensing something wrong in the man's tone. He had imagined the conversation quite differently, and certainly hadn't expected to be interrogated. "I... Do."

With an affirming sound, the priest took a seat on the ground and encouraged Link to do the same. Link obeyed, and for some time, the priest stared out into empty space, ignoring the Hylian's occasional pries.

"Hero, there is a grave problem," the man finally proffered. "You say that Din made this decision, yet as soon as I contacted her, she made it clear to me that she denied any involvement."

Link was completely dumbstruck. Surely this was some sort of mistake! "..._Denies any involvement?_ But she spoke to me directly--!"

He could hear the shaking in the priest's voice; the man was possessed with his message and had no interest in Link's reasoning. "She accuses you of consulting with demons and allowing them to speak in her stead! This is an evil work, not of her doing, and she says that you have blinded yourself to these things... You have turned your back on the gods, so they have turned their back on you!"

Link tried, and failed, to grasp his collapsing impressions. All this time, he had endured the burden because he believed Din to be the perpetrator, but if the priest was correct... "That cannot be," Link begged, refusing to accept that this was an oversight on his part. "Ganondorf himself saw her! A... A _demon_ would not fool him!"

"Oh, mark my words, boy: the Gerudo is just as blind as you are."

"But... This evil had the power to release him? How could something that strong..."

He felt a chill scale his spine, settling painfully at the base of his skull. There, it festered and reminded him of the beast... He could swear the familiar scent of rotting flesh was returning to the air, and he moved erratically, his mind warning him, his instincts flinching. All that kept him calm was the return of the priest's voice.

"I do not know, but that does not matter now."

"What should I do?"

"Nothing," the priest said assuringly. "It is especially important that you do not tell him of this. Your goal will now be to return him to his proper prison, and if he knows of this, he will anticipate you. It is best to keep him in the dark."

Link let this idea mull and asserted, "We should leave."

The priest interrupted him in horror. "No! You cannot leave! You are both in danger!"

"He must leave soon--"

"And why is that?"

Link hesitated to venture where he was sure Ganondorf did not want him to be, but the issue could not be avoided. "It is Gerudo custom that after a death, they are given leave."

He was offered nothing but a boggled moment of silence, which the priest ended with a huff. He spoke as though the solution were obvious. "Then do not give him leave. It is not complicated."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but he's much stronger than I am. I doubt I could simply convince him."

"You're his master, are you not?"

He felt sick with rage, and sputtered his response helplessly. "P-perhaps by name, b-but how can I possibly...? This is his culture, I do not feel the need to deprive him of it!"

The priest was surprised by how quickly the boy emotionally broke down. His eyebrows furrowed. "I do not think it will kill him."

Link stood frozen, the utter lack of understanding and sympathy from the phrase throwing him into shock. He was at a loss for words; he could not comprehend how anyone could so easily dismiss the last of a man's morality. Link was not moved by honor or mercy--but the outrage pervaded nonetheless. When he found his voice at last, it lost all calm. "How _very_ easy for you to say! I don't understand how you people can do this! You kill his horse in front of him, you refuse to apologize, and now you want to punish him--"

"No one is punishing anyone," the priest retorted

"I'll be sure to tell him that," Link said wryly. "And what am I to tell him now? He cannot leave? And what of when he asks why? Should I say I don't know?"

He knew it was unfair to lay all the blame on this one man's shoulders, but it did not matter to him. He disregarded the priest's attempts to defend himself, leaving the tent with not another word. Even in the familiar darkness of his world, anger had made him lost.

* * *

A ribbon of light drifted gently along the ground, betraying a visitation. Ganondorf noticed the flickering light and shadow and knowing who it may be, he  
made some effort to rouse. His attempt came a bit late; Link made his way inside, looking far more disgruntled than he had seemed before. 

"Is something the matter?" Ganon stuffily inquired, forcing himself up.

Link did not respond right away. He stepped about instead, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he snapped, "Where have you been?"

Ganondorf was still a bit drowsy, so the question hit him uselessly. "What are you talking about?"

"I was here a minute ago and you weren't here--"

"It was..." The Gerudo sighed and recollected his thoughts. "It was the body; I was with them as they took it away."

Link's pacing stopped, but his insistence on being disagreeable had not. He failed to find a way to continue his absent-minded attack, so he murmured dumbly, "I see."

"You look terrible."

"I'm fine. I'm sure you look worse."

Link was trying to joke; Ganondorf wished he wouldn't.

The Hylian nervously pawed his face, gathering the courage to venture further. "Ganon, when you were released... It was Din speaking with you?"

The question was unexpected and too obvious to go unnoticed. He haphazardly dodged it. "What's this about?"

"Will you just answer me? Don't lie to me!"

Ganondorf guffawed bluntly at the absurdity, but granted me a reply all the same. "I _know_ her when I see her."

"You're sure?"

"You spoke to the priest, didn't you?"

"I did, and she denies her involvement."

His response to this news was similar to Link's, albeit a bit more doleful. Maybe it was the sudden awakening, or perhaps it was the drink he had downed not an hour before, but he had no way to properly discount such a statement. "Th-that can't be true."

"That's what I was told."

"You don't believe him, do you?"

Link gave him a heartbroken look, something that he was completely unprepared for. It would taken twice the fool that he was to miss the misery that came through the Hylian's eyes. The last of his presence and words felt like an echo: "I don't know."

_He didn't know_. Ganondorf couldn't blame him. He wanted to, but he knew better. Link had no reason to trust anyone, especially not him, and so how could the boy possibly be sure of anything?

The Gerudo wished that he could, just for this moment, reach out and dispel all of his skepticism. If only Link was like a slate, then marks could be wiped away and imprints could be sanded smooth. But the ways he affected Link were not so simple; they were not marks on a surface.

Ganondorf had previously thought hatred was the prime issue between them, that Link's unaccounted violence was the product of malevolence alone. Now he feared this beast all the more: he could handle hatred, but he wasn't sure how long he could bear being the subject of continual second-guessing. Ganondorf was many things, but he was not a compulsive liar.

Most of the lying he ever did, after all, was to himself.

* * *

Grief is indeed a fierce companion, the sort of lover men actively avoid. She comes at the wrong moments, and when she is most direly needed, she flees. Grief ought to build, but she most often destroys: one loss is not enough, and so grief comes and claims more when her victim least expects it. It is not necessary for the first loss to be significant. All she needs is a second of impairment and she will swallow everything. 

She comes only with death; she revels in it. She is a mistress of the grave. All affairs with her are bitter and brief, supplied only by discontent...

"How _poorly_ you have taken advantage of us."

-

_I don't understand. Was the horse that important? Was it his lover, too?_

"You speak again like that, and I will kill you."

_Blind fool thinks he can strut around and act like he owns the place well I'll make sure he knows that if anyone owns the place I do. What is it about strangers who come here they all want to tell us what to do. I can't help that some slave I don't even know got his horse killed what does he want me to say? It's only fitting that one animal should lose another. _

* * *

By that night, when Ganondorf began to think of the next day, he felt intimidated by the task before him. 

Gerudos were known for a variety of things: their ruthlessness, their strength, their magic, their nobility... But the deepest Gerudo convictions lay in the realm of the dead, where ancestors float about freely and the dead trek a long, perilous journey. Hylians were appalled by the Gerudos' treatment of their dead; the Hylians would be quiet and docile in the wake of graves, but Gerudos would throw a riot. Perhaps it was the common mode of death that made them treat it so differently--lives in the desert were often violent and short, so the funerals were likewise. While a Hylian could grieve a death for months, Gerudos allotted a schedule for such things. A sibling would have ten days, a mother would have twenty, and in neither case would "delaying" the days be accepted. Wasting too much time on the dead was outright forbidden; it was better to mourn immediately and move on as soon as possible.

Gerudos treated a death with wildness, all the time somehow pertaining their powerful dignity.

Ganondorf wasn't sure he could accomplish this balance.

Horses did not usually matter, as so few lived long enough to be of consequence. The only beasts worthy of any mourning had to have been with its owner in battle, and owned for a decade or more. It was only then that the owner could grant it a soul with which it could journey to the land of the dead. Ganondorf had owned Gershom for thirteen years.

For a horse of such stature, five days could be allowed the day immediately after its passing.

He would have to leave camp... He would have to get permission... Ignoring the structure would be an abomination to his people, to everything he understood as sacred... He began to fear.

-

Peace was estranged. Nothing allowed him a moment of rest--the men's presence affected him like a persistent headache. With the day remaining as long as it did, and so emptily, Ganondorf had no escape from tedious suffering. It was not as though he was unfamiliar with it; indeed, it was how he spent the key years of his life. But for now it felt acutely overwhelming.

Link must have felt it too. He moved restlessly and fled from commitment. Only every so often would he arrive with any reason, and he would act peculiar, as though he was being protective. Ganondorf considered this for some time. He didn't know what Link would want to protect. Things were so desolate here, here in his tent and in his thoughts. He knew Link did not want to defend the Ganondorf they both knew. So what else was there? Did the boy see something he didn't?

-

Link had considerable difficulty hating a man he could neither see nor hear. His reason would remind of the man's identity, but the enemy he knew had so few words. How could he hate him now, when he could not connect the crimes to that pensive voice?

He loathed the dark man of black armor and red hair, but he did not know this new sound, which came to him only in moments of desperation and loss. It begged for mercy, expressed rage and sorrow, and shriveled at the slightest provocation. Link was not sure that he could hate this new person. The newcomer was too vulnerable to be the target of such...

* * *

The night was far too beautiful to deserve the treatment it was about to receive. Link's blindness was probably to blame for that--he did not see the evening's sincerity, so he did not spare it when Ganondorf approached him. 

The Gerudo felt energized at last, after having dealt with the crushing weight of shock. He stared into the exploding sky and could say he was prepared to pursue it. He was ready to chase Gershom into the shadows.

"I am ready."

"Ready?"

"Surely you know what I'm talking about."

The tremble in Link's figure was subtle; it was lost in the shake of the dark. "I'm not sure..."

"I'm leaving, Link. For a short while."

"We... Were supposed to leave, I had planned it..."

"Alone. I'm going alone."

"I realize that... But I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"There's a problem."

...It was the heartbreak again. It flickered like a flame against the shadows, then submerged into the black once more. Ganondorf felt attacked. It was a declaration of innocence--a ploy to avoid blame, anticipating Ganon's response. It made him feel helpless, as though he had no right to be upset.

"What do you _mean _there's a problem?"

"I mean you can't leave right now."

The thought seemed absurd. Ganondorf, sensing trouble, tried to read further. "They told you this?"

"It has nothing to do with them," Link lied.

"I have to go," Ganondorf said after a moment of hesitation. "I'll be back."

That was what set it off--a new voice, a new way of relating. Link spoke as if he had rehearsed. "Ganon, I'm asking you to stay for my sake!"

Ganondorf swallowed a piteous laugh. This wasn't normal behavior--he knew this for sure--and he owed it to the mysterious forces of outside pressure. "Link," he began, staying his amusement, "please don't ask me to choose between you and Gershom. You know who I'll choose."

Link tried to mimic Ganon's laughter, but it was pained and weakened by his tremors. "A-a horse, over me. I can't say I'm f-flattered."

The Gerudo was unnerved by his manner. "...What on earth is the matter with you?"

"Nothing's the matter with me!" Link retorted sharply.

_Of course_. "I'm going."

Ganondorf hadn't made five steps before the Hylian gave tried again. "Gershom will wait for you!"

The assumption burned him enough to draw him back; he turned to Link coldly, and informed him, "Gershom has never waited for anyone in his life."

The conversation closed with the sound of Ganon's things, comforted in a sack of leather and wielded for travel.

* * *

_Ho, there... Where do you think you're going?_

_Where's your master?_

_Hey--hey--_

_Better go on back... Runaways around here... Aren't treated so kindly..._

* * *

"Link!" 

"Hey, stranger..."

'_Link, you have to tell them!'_

It hadn't taken very long, Link mused. Several sounds came to him at once: two voices filled with contempt, the groan of reins, the callous sigh of their common enemy. He tried his best to appear vulnerable.

Ganondorf considered grabbing him, but he was certain the move would be universally unapproved. '_Link, kindly tell these idiots that I'm free to leave as I please._'

Link looked at him in surprise. '_Why would I tell them that?_'

Ganondorf did not feel the need to argue and assumed Link would give in with enough encouragement. '_Just tell them!_'

The numbers of men on horseback shifted irritably as communications were denied to them. Link put an ease to their restlessness and spoke softly in Hylian.

"Thank you, sirs. I'll take it from here."

Ganon restrained his protest until they were a safe distance away; even while speaking in Gerudo, he did not feel safe from their prying ears. They took their leave at an agonizingly slow pace, eyes peeking from under cloaks, spying still.

Link mumbled suddenly, "I'm surprised you didn't simply wrestle your way through."

"It is somewhat difficult to do that when several men have arrows pointing at your head," Ganondorf retorted. "They're quite dedicated to keeping me from leaving."

The boy didn't seem to notice anything Ganon had just said. '_We need to talk._'

'_Why now?_'

'_Please._'

The letdown made Ganon dizzy. He was completely mentally prepared for what he had to do, and to have this process interrupted was particularly distressing.

He followed Link back to his tent, though the entire time he knew that the conversation was not going to end well. He could resist the temptation to look over his shoulder time and time again, and sure enough, there were flutters of existence. He sped his pace with every glance.

It made him feel strange to be quivering so strongly in the midst of such a peaceful place. The night was filled to the brim with music and calm, and the air tasted soothing and moist. Why should death stalk him here, of all places? He had never associated such terrors with this terrain... The desert was the land of the dead. How could this lush earth wield the same weapon? How could trees and rivers yield to lost spirits searching for the underworld?

His absence of mind was swiftly brought to an end.

"Ganon."

Ganon did not waste any time and chattered his excuse in Gerudo. '_Look, I'll make my way the moment they aren't paying--_'

Link cut him off, hissing intently, '_We're being watched._'

He stumbled with his words but managed a hasty reply. '_You mean, those men?_'

'_No. Someone else._'

Ganondorf didn't understand, and after waiting for further explanation and receiving none, he tried to goad him. '_Who?_'

Link dwelt on it but would not answer the question. '_Just stay low. You can't leave right now, but I'll let you know when you can_.'

-

Ganondorf was alone again in the dark and he didn't know what to do. Link would divulge no more, with the fear that the alleged spy would somehow overhear and understand. Ganon dismissed it as paranoia at first, then wondered if the boy was pulling his leg. An awfully cruel trick, Ganon thought, and in fact it seemed beyond his capabilities. To lie to just keep him in place...

But there were other possibilities as well, and none were promising. It could be that Link's arm was being twisted, or--

Lethe.

He hadn't heard the voice lately, but the influence was clear.

Frustration made him restless; there was no way to tell whether his intuition was correct, and Link would not ease his thoughts. An ancient desire flickered once more: for a moment he lusted for harm, but grudgingly choked it out. There was only a slim chance that this was genuinely the boy's fault, and he couldn't allow the grudge to distract him.

There were impending issues to be had! He could already feel the watchful shadows crowding against the tent walls. He moved in further, remembered Link's offer of hospitality, and knew he would be a fool not to accept. The next thing he knew, he lay on the ground, head spinning and feet cold, staring at the impressions of people stretch along the tent's walls like ghouls. He absently wished there was a more protective center to the structure; he could not drop the awareness of how easily anyone could tear through these walls. Every spot was too close to the outside, to where eyes watched and minds plotted.

Ganondorf lay still but he slept far from peacefully. The ceiling--really nothing more than the tent's drapery--seemed so expansive in the night, the dark allowing it no beginning nor end... He started at one edge and his gaze would trace over it again and again, but he never found what he was looking for, which he thought was some sort of conclusion, finality...

He rolled over, possessed with discomfort, Gershom's death dripping down his head and pooling into his chest.

What was the sound of Gershom's life echoing in his ears became the breath of the slumbering boy. No conversation was had; Link came in silence and slept just as quietly, and for that Ganondorf was thankful. Night just descended on them, and they silently agreed that rest was all they could manage.

The bloodied thoughts came to Ganon once more as his mind drifted.

It would be so simple to murder the Hylian where he was: sleeping, unarmed. But as the images came to him and he pictured the plunge of metal and the feeling of breaking bones in his hand, an unknown feeling came to him. He tried to be excited at the thought, but a chill interrupted him, followed by a sourness in his stomach.

Fatigue overcame elation. His ugly habits desired a violent end for the boy, but with an uncommon moment of weakness, he found that he couldn't bear the idea. It had nothing to do with the boy himself; it was only that when he thought of knives and blood and cries and sudden stillness... He could only think of Gershom.

His heart hurt, his head felt like a torrent... He tried not to think of it any further, and to lose himself again in the folds of the tent, up and down, through and through.

He wanted to sob but didn't have the strength, and so his body swelled with grief and, at last, gave into sleep_.  
_

* * *

_Thump-thump-thump._

_A heartbeat, or something else._

_...Hoofbeats._

_Clusters of laughter, sounding like the high-pitched whine of flies._

_All he could see was Gershom and the bleeding of his teeth, eyes, throat, belly. _

_They had the gall to enjoy it, too..._

_Gershom looked at him in agony and he realized how deeply he had failed to protect the only remaining part of him..._

-

Ganondorf awoke with a start. He gave his surroundings a desperate glance, but found only the peaceful solace of night. Immediately, he let go of his apprehension and allowed himself to breathe with relief.

_It was just a dream_.

His mind, tickled by the realization, continued to reason, _Yes, it was just a dream, Gershom is alive; you could easily go now and he will breathe on you, and you can feel the strength in his shoulders..._

Yes, he could...

It was just a dream, so...

-

It took a moment for him to realize his mistake.

For the past two days, the loss didn't seem real to him. He could still imagine Gershom, and he could forget at times that the beast had died... In his memory, Gershom thrived, and so he hadn't come to terms with his death.

But at last the physical reality clutched him. Gershom was gone and no wishing could make him return. He was unused to this sensation; he could not comprehend how much death had deprived him, how many familiar feelings he would now never be able to feel again...

It was the first time he recognized the gulf in him. The men had carved a part of him out, taken and ravaged an entire spectrum of experiences. Indeed, there was a _hole_ in him, and he had only just realized it. It had been there the whole time.

_**I don't understand why you're so upset.**_

_He was the only piece of me I had left. I salvaged so little from my life._

_**You never thought of Gershom this way before.**_

_I don't know. I suppose I didn't know what I had. I didn't think I'd lose him._

_**How quaint.**_

_Why did you do it?_

_**What do you mean?**_

_You led me to him, you let me anger him, and he--_

_**You did that.**_

_You let me do it._

_**You are far too dependent. These people, these beasts, these things we surround ourselves with are mortal. They die. They leave us. Do not bother investing in them.**_

_I've never depended on anyone_

_**LIAR. YOU DEPEND ON PEOPLE TO FEEL. YOU DEPEND ON PEOPLE TO HATE; YOU DEPEND ON THEM TO FEAR. YOU HATE THEM WHEN YOU SHOULD BE IGNORING THEM. YOU DO NOT NEED GERSHOM TO FEEL THESE THINGS. YOUR EMOTIONS ARE YOUR OWN.**_

_**YOU ALLOW PEOPLE TO MAKE YOU FEEL THREATENED, BECAUSE YOU FAIL TO REALIZE THEY ARE NOTHING BUT OBJECTS. THEY SPEAK AND THEY MOVE BUT THEY CANNOT LIVE IN YOU.**_

_But without Gershom I cannot--_

_**NO, YOU CAN. YOU CAN IMAGINE HIM; HE EXISTS IN YOUR MEMORY.**_

_I don't **want** to imagine him! I don't want to think of how he **made** me feel, I want to **feel** him!_

_-_

_I want to feel his breathing and his heartbeat; I want to feel the heat rise from his breath. That's all I want and need. I don't care whether my memories of him live on; I just want to touch him once more so I can know that I have power over this--_

_**You don't have power over it.**_

_Be quiet. I want to sleep._

_**Sleep is like death. Don't sleep! If you do, you might die!**_

_Maybe I want to die._

_**Just because of Gershom? Don't be foolish. He isn't worth death.**_

_I want to die. I want to die._

_**Now you are being childish.**_

_If death is inevitable, then facing it now will make no difference. I don't want to anticipate it anymore. If I die now I won't have to die later..._

_**Then kill yourself.**_

_My hands are shaking._

_**Coward.**_

_I need a drink._

_**If you want to die so badly...**_

_I can't find--_

_**DO IT, YOU COWARD. STOP SNIVELLING AND FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF AND GET IT OVER WITH**_

_Wait. I need sleep first._

_Maybe if I lay here long enough, and hope hard enough, I will die. Maybe if I give up enough, and pray enough, I will fade away._

_**I can't believe you're saying this. It was just a horse.**_

_...If I'm still enough..._

_...I'll... Disappear..._

* * *

A/N:...Ganon's so emo.

Eheh, don't worry, he'll be back to his regular crotchety self soon enough :B


	8. life lessons

**[A/N: UPDAAAAAAAAAAATE.**

**Yeah, and I even did it during my "OMG FINALS FINALS AHHHHHH AHHHHHH!" stage! Though in truth, finals have been an absolute blast. I've done pretty much nothing all week. (Finals stress is a myth created by people who like to complain about their major. FACT.)**

**Ahem. I have also created a website for this fanfic (well, a writing blog, anyway) where you can read me rambling on about things no one cares about. Yessss. Find it at: lethe-river of all (dot) blogspot (dot) com. It is also linked as my new homepage. I may or may not be dedicated to it. Ha. It's mostly there so I don't fill my AN's with pretentious crap.**

**WHAT? You want to READ it? Get out!)**

* * *

**chapter 8: life lessons**

To Ganondorf's immense disappointment, he awoke the next morning in perfect health. He could not quite recall the force that made his health so unappealing, but it felt unexpected, as though he really oughtn't have it.

The morning was a tasteless stir of light and dew. He would have stood to his feet if he hadn't seen Link. The boy was asleep, his back turned, making Ganon feel miles away.

He breathed bitterly. Though his memories of the night were foggy, he could tell his rest hadn't been complete. His body ached and his jaw was locked from overuse. He grunted, trying to roll the soreness from his muscles, but it was to no avail. With this realization, he reconsidered sleep.

"I lived through the night," he mumbled with great uncertainty. He was undecided on whether this was a good thing.

"Huh?"

Link had awakened, but was barely cognitive. Ganondorf did not bother repeating himself.

"You sleep at all?"

Ganondorf obliged. "Some."

Link sighed and sat up. "It doesn't matter much, anyway."

Ganondorf had no inclination to speak with him, so he rolled over and listened to Link's morning routine. The minute sounds of shifting cloth, dry sniffs, and puckered breaths meshed with his sleepiness, making it strangely relaxing. All was quiet; even the beating of his own heart was hushed.

Encouraged by a momentary silence, Ganondorf started to get up.

"No," Link assured gruffly. "Get some more sleep. It's still early."

The Gerudo was too drowsy to take offense to being ordered around. He flopped onto his back, seeing only glimpses of Link's movement. "Then may I ask what it is you're up so early for?"

"I have business to attend to," Link answered, being intentionally vague. "Don't worry about it."

Ganondorf had tuned out successfully, and just started to see his dreams form beneath his heavy eyelids.

But Link's voice grated his relaxation. "You need anything?"

"Link--"

"I can get it for you on my way."

"--_For Goddesses' sake_."

The resulting standstill made Ganondorf suspect something else was the matter, but he looked and found Link staring into space. He wondered momentarily if he had hurt Link's feelings, but the boy cracked a smile and left without retort.

* * *

Ganondorf enjoyed sleep almost as much as he despised mornings. With these preferences in mind, it made no sense that he should suffer the restlessness he did. 

When at last he gave up any hope of more sleep, he tentatively welcomed the morning. He was considerably disoriented, even though he had managed to take the blunt of most of the changes in his life. Being placed under Link's authority--being alienated from his people--being left for dead. He had wrestled through those situations miraculously well, but yesterday, at the wrong moment, he had fallen apart. Was it a cumulation that had caused it?

He worked to dissect his feelings, just to examine them and put them away, but he found they were absent.

_That can't be right._ How could something that existed with such vigor only a day ago vanish? He concentrated on the disturbances he knew were there a day before, and lay still, waiting for their pains to flicker for even a moment. But there was nothing to feel.

Apparently, all had healed in his sleep.

He almost felt at peace.

That is, until the anger filled him and forced him to his feet.

-

To the slave master, the distant standoff must have seemed trivial. In fact, he barely noticed Ganondorf's presence. For Ganon, however, this was his moment of truth. What he could not do the day before was suddenly a reality to him.

Grim though he was, he could not keep a smile from encroaching upon him. Things would soon change. He had grossly overreacted--yes, death and the loss that followed had disconnected him, but with death came new opportunities. He had never felt so moved by something before.

Being locked away in a netherworld for so long had deprived him; he had nearly forgotten what it was like to fight. He surrendered to most of what he now faced, but here he had power. He was breathing down the neck of a man who had offended him. This enough gave him the refreshing taste of adventure.

He could, he could. He could if only he found a way.

Ganondorf moved again. His target would disappear if he stayed in one place too long; there were many ways to fade from view in this place. The village worked constantly against him, or so the bitterness in him accused. When his plan to sneak around another hour dissipated, he allowed his temptations to get the better of him.

The slave master finally took notice but at first refused to recognize him. Ganondorf thought he was gaining some ground, so ventured even closer, but a few men turned in his direction. He could see it, smell it--they, too, had grown weary of his presence, and any conflict would be premature. He looked away and pretended not to see them approach.

He heard a few sneers and threats gaining in volume.

It seemed wise to quicken his pace.

_hey hey hey._

He was starting to tire of these gawkers.

_you keep moving._

His mind left to dwell on better things.

With a sense of relief, he regained his ability to think violently. What had sickened him the night before took on its familiar appeal. He smiled absently, fondling his coarse thoughts with great affection and expertise. He had missed this hobby.

But his imagination took on a realistic turn: how _was_ this going to end? It hadn't occurred to him until then. His hatred for this man was far from unfounded--so, then, why shouldn't his fantasies be satisfied?

Ganon was led into a momentary panic. The slave master was leaving his line of sight, and his intuition insisted that immediate action was necessary. But what? Options had simply not presented themselves. He stood still for a moment, even though he could hear them getting closer--

Then he happened to see a familiar face at the corner of his eye, and a plan unfolded before him.

He chewed his bottom lip, a tic he had not adopted until that moment, and changed direction. _There is more than one way to skin a cat_.

* * *

Whatever miracle had occurred the last time he spoke to these people, he could only hope it would happen again. In retrospect, depending on a random miracle was probably not his brightest moment, but regardless, it was the only move at his disposal. 

It was the older one, thankfully, and he was alone.

"Hello," Ganondorf attempted once he was certain his voice could carry.

The slave's head whipped around in response, and for a time at least, he seemed accepting. A quick smirk gave him some assurance, but once the young man opened his mouth, it became apparent that the situation would require more subtlety. Whatever the man muttered in his direction, Ganondorf understood none of it.

His only strategy was to pretend not to have heard. "How are things?"

Uncertainty made the slave cock an eyebrow. After another soft, foreign response, the slave decided that this man must be hard of hearing. "They are well," he finally said.

"And your brother?"

The slave ceased to cooperate and began to ramble quickly in his native language.

Once it became abundantly clear that he had lost any fluency he once had, Ganondorf interjected forcefully. "--That's great--Now, could we talk about something?"

The slave sputtered and scoffed. "What is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter...?"

"Why are you acting this way? Can't you hear what I'm telling you?"

"Look--I've--I've got a headache, so can we just speak Hylian right now?"

They stared at each other for some time as they both realized how poorly constructed the excuse was. The slave's features twisted in disbelief. "Is that so?"

Ganondorf had grown impatient from the whole ordeal and so he blurted, "Yes, that's so!"

"Perhaps," the slave spoke slowly, as if his estimation of Ganon's intelligence had dropped quite suddenly, "You should wait until you are feeling better."

* * *

Clearly, the people of this village did not know what was best for them. Ganon had offered them several opportunities for redemption, and each time he had been rudely refused. He was bitter, and rapidly losing his incentive. 

...And yet, and yet, there was that slave boy, who caused him to feel a revulsion previously thought to be beyond him. The bond servants of this population seemed to be the only mentally capable, after all. If only he could find a way to find their vulnerability, he could finally use them to their full potential. The slave boy was the only hope.

What could he possibly do? He no longer had the language at his disposal.

He would have to find other ways, other weaknesses... He saw a familiar shadow lurking behind him as he made his way back, and knowing that it was the servant girl, he decided he would interrupt her stalking.

Served her right.

-

Rakel screamed, but only for an instant; Ganondorf clasped his hand over her mouth before anyone nearby could hear. It was certainly easier than he had expected--he merely had to follow her, and she brought him to the perfect place for an interrogation.

Ganondorf, with his one free hand, dropped the tent flaps for some privacy. The girl was silent in all things but her harsh breathing, puffing hot, sweaty air into his palm. He feared she may struggle, but it was clear she carried no delusions of escape. She stood limp, even as he wedged her into a stranglehold, and for some time she could manage to do nothing but shiver.

He waited for a stronger quiet before teasing her with a squeeze to her throat. He used his guttural, soft-spoken voice--the one that, in his experience, frightened people the most. "Why were you following me?"

She gagged but would not answer him.

"Are you in on all this?"

The girl wrathfully twisted in his grip. "Don't be stupid," she hissed. "Why would I support any of them?"

"Oh well, it doesn't matter. Could you be helpful for once?"

He accepted her doleful silence as an affirmation.

"I need you to tell me everything you can about _Mrabi._ And, while we're at it, tell me how those slaves came to be here."

"You need your head checked," she retorted. "What do _Mrabi_ have to do with anything?"

"The slaves are _Mrabi_."

"That's impossible."

"You see, that's why I need to know more. _Why _is it so impossible?"

The shadow of a man passed them, so Ganon allowed her a pause. Once the presence outside lifted, she swallowed and gave her answer. "All I know is that _Mrabi_ are supposed to be a very dangerous people. There have been many who have tried to conquer their tribe, to their own ruin. They're supposed to have powers."

"Such as?"

She gave a fretful kick. "I don't know! Maybe they can make you see things--maybe they have mind control--maybe they can turn lead into gold!"

"--And how long have they been here?"

"Since before my time." She twisted her head back against his chest, as though trying to face him. "Will you let me go?"

Ganondorf hesitated for a few moments, for he was sure there was something else he had meant to do. He was crutched by considerable disappointment: he hadn't learned much.

Rakel read his silence and spoke openly, her words cutting from between her teeth. "If you mean to take me against my will, I will scream."

The Gerudo needed only a second to catch her meaning and to recoil in response. Her words made him involuntarily lurch and release her, as though dropping a hot iron. The girl did not even give him a second glance--she fled from the tent and left him alone and dizzied. The alarm he felt was perhaps understandable, as what she insinuated was so far from his mind that it had caught him off guard. But even minutes after she was gone, he was still shaken.

He didn't think about it much, how simple it was for him, how opportune it was. It made him shiver the way he had shivered the first time he realized he had the power to kill. It wasn't fear. No, that would be the wrong word. It was awe at his infinite capabilities, that as someone mortal, he had power to make so many powerful choices, with such ease...

Embarrassed to be so riled, he pushed away his thoughts and tried to resume his day normally. After all, his plan, which had been shifting in form for hours, had finally taken shape and he did not wish to lose his chance.

* * *

The moment he stepped foot into their territory, the slaves scattered about. His first impression was, falsely, that these movements were made out of fear. 

Two hobbled to his side, speaking in their native tongue, and all the while looking very much unimpressed with his presence. He acknowledged them awkwardly in Hylian, but sought out a familiar face instead--the young slave boy was just ahead.

"Cousin!" Ganondorf clucked, trying to call for his attention.

The boy noticed and glowered at him curiously.

"Why do you regard me so?" Ganon inquired in mock-horror. "Is this how you treat your own?"

The slave looked as intimidating as any person his age and stature could possibly seem; their eyes locked for a solid few moments, and it was Ganondorf who had to break it off. He tried to use whatever charisma he had salvaged on the child, but youth are not so easily convinced of any man's benevolence.

Though Ganondorf had failed in this regard, an opportunity opened up: an older slave, one unknown to him, approached them both to reestablish separation. Looking to who was the obvious foreigner, the man warned him, "It is not wise to look in eyes. He can steal your soul."

"Ah! So that is one of your powers?" Ganon asked, far too loudly.

The slave boy, perturbed by his voice, snapped at him. "Be quiet!"

"You might not think well of me for doing so," Ganondorf continued, this time in a whisper, "but I doubt you are telling the truth."

Neither of the slaves had time to respond to his accusation--another voice arrived, overpowering them both.

"Has your headache lifted, son of Sefu?"

"Ah, cousin!" Ganondorf again greeted, turning to his truly intended target. The other slaves moved aside at once, disappearing into the background. He had not noticed this before, but it became clear to him that the slave he had such frequent contact with was one of considerable status. The rest of the men kept their respectful distance, and Ganondorf's acquaintance stood tall at the entrance of his household.

"'Cousin'?"

"Our fathers--were they not like brothers?"

The creativity in Ganondorf's labeling caused the slave to stand in silent consideration for some time. "I see," he at last proffered, though in an exceptionally cold manner. What Ganondorf thought was a warm gesture clearly did not move this man. "Why have you come?"

"I promise to you that I come only on my own behalf, and on strictly friendly terms."

The slave gave him a bored look, but he did not let it faze him.

"You see, I have come to confess something."

There was a small glint of interest, though the slave tried to conceal it.

"You may have already suspected... But I am not _Mrabi_."

It inspired violent reactions in most of them, but still his 'cousin' was stand-offish and unresponsive. Ganondorf, who could not well read this sort of stance, took it as a sign to continue in hopes of overwhelming the man with new information.

"It was a mistake, and a great one. I may not be _Mrabi_, but I have my own magic, which can at times be spurious and act on its own..."

"You spoke our language," the slave interjected sharply.

Ganondorf affirmed this fervently. "That I did, as a result of such a fluke. My magic acted before I could think and placed me... In an uncompromising position."

"You knew of Sefu. That is impossible."

"Impossible? Hardly--not for a man who can read minds, find names, pluck them from your memory..."

Ganondorf's words dwindled. The slave still gave no sign of emotion, no clue to his thoughts, so Ganon did the only practical thing and waited. He knew from the beginning that making this confession was a great risk, but it was a hurdle that would prevent him from advancing, whether he had done this or not. Furthermore, it was a political strategy that had festered in him for years. If the other party does not know one's intentions in being honest, they may believe it is for the sake of honesty itself.

At last the slave broke their exchanged silence. "Why did you tell me this?"

"I simply prefer not to base my relationships on deceit," Ganondorf lied passionately.

The first emotion from the slave showed itself--though it was not exactly the emotion Ganondorf had intended. The slave laughed in his face, still chuckling as he said, "You are full of it."

The Gerudo, from that second, was sure it was over. But the slave noted his expression of immense surprise and waved at him casually.

"But, I do not care. You have something on your mind, don't you?"

"I--"

"Magic-man, don't worry. I can read minds as well." The slave tapped the crown of his own head knowingly and laughed again when he saw Ganon's bewildered face. He motioned to his household. "Come inside."

-

He expected to be alone in the tent with the slave, but a number of others followed behind him, forming a circle around him. They began to sit down and he wondered absently whether he should as well. He looked to the leader, who was also still standing.

All tensions were relieved when the leader, too, sat cross-legged on the ground.

Once everyone had a seat, with only Ganon on his knees, the formalities buzzed between them smoothly. Ganondorf introduced himself by name, and the leader at last made his own title--Anish--known. The only distraction that existed was the behavior of those who sat around him. Ganondorf had originally thought they joined them in obligation or, perhaps, they were to participate. But as he spoke to Anish, several got up and left, and he immediately thought he had done something to offend them.

Anish quickly assured, "Do not mind them. They may leave if they wish."

After a while, with more leaving and a few others returning, he realized their purpose was entirely recreational--that is, they watched for the entertainment value. It took time for Ganondorf to finally focus on what was at hand--he was not used to his conversations being ogled as though he were putting on a play (though, he later decided, it was the most truthful treatment of such meetings he had ever seen in a people; never before had he met face with a culture that so boldly admitted that most conversation is, in fact, actors on a stage).

Anish pressed him to continue. "What are you so earnestly seeking?"

"Answers."

"I do have many of those."

"I have questions to go with them."

"Then let's arrange a trade. Your questions for my answers..."

Ganondorf lost his patience with Anish's theatrics. "Let us face it. The people in this village are all idiots, your master in particular. You are, by some twist of fate, the only _intelligent_ beings for miles. What has kept you from killing him and leaving this place for good?"

Anish blinked in surprise. "Your master is blind and a fraction of your size. What keeps _you_ bound?"

The Gerudo fretted. "It's more complicated than that--"

"Exactly. It _is _more complicated." The slaves all stirred at this twist; Anish calmly clasped his hands together. "Tell me, why does a beast hibernate in the winter?"

Slightly boggled by the simplicity of the question, Ganondorf almost didn't answer. "...Because there is no food for it to eat."

"Our tribe hit difficult times. We have had drought; our soil is ruined. With little food at hand and disaster approaching, a large group of our men--us--left in search for an opportunity to return with. We found nothing, but slave traders happened across us. Slave traders know better than to mess with Mrabi, but he claimed citizenship of another, docile tribe. We were captured and sent here."

"You_chose_ this?"

"'Choose' is a strong word. Let us say: it is as it happened, and we are willingly enduring it for a time."

"For goddesses' sake--_why_?"

"Do you know what happens to a slave master after years of being served?"

Ganondorf confessed that he did not know.

The man smirked wryly. "He gets fatter and stupider every year. Soon, he will not even be able to bathe himself. At the same time, his possessions grow. What do you think is the natural course of action?"

Ganondorf was now beyond flabbergasted. In some ways perhaps, it was an ingenious plan, but in so many glaring ways, it was idiotic. "So, you're going to steal all of his property?"

"Before his friends do the same, yes."

"And then, a whole generation of enslavement will be worth it," Ganon inferred, his voice dripping his sarcasm.

"Once we strip the entire village of its wealth and return to our tribe, yes, it will."

There were many ways Ganondorf could have responded to this and manipulated it to his favor. He could have, for instance, pressured the man into believing now, more than ever, was a good time to administer the plan (and that they should, while they're at it, kill off their master). Nothing would fill him with contentment more than seeing the village destroyed. As far as he was concerned, the whole lot deserved to be ransacked.

But thoughts stubbornly blocked his reason. Without warning, he spoke and quickly regretted it. "And, your brother--was it worth it to sacrifice him, as well?"

The slave scrambled to his feet and all the others followed suit. "You!" he roared, his face turning pale with rage, "How dare you suggest that you know what I would sacrifice!"

Ganondorf could not say he was surprised by the outburst, but he was compelled to try and fix the damage he had done. At a loss for what he should say in the wake of the man's anger, he began, "What your master has been doing to your brother... Is unforgivable..."

"--Get out."

They stared at each other intensely, and Ganon spoke as briefly as he could. "He deserves to die."

The slaves looked at him in an estranged manner, as if he had started rambling in an alien tongue, and he stood up in a huff, finally realizing that their intentions were far from his own. He was wrong to think they were on his side, that they were reasonable people. They were cowards and low-lives, men who sacrificed their dignity for the momentary promise of survival.

"Fine!" he spat. "Continue to live this way! It is no worry of mine!"

He spun around, expecting a way to clear, but instead the young boy was standing in his way, eyes open wide against his dark face, giving Ganon the alarming impression that his eyes were glowing, burning--

He roared, swung his arm. "Get the hell out of my way!"

* * *

In a thoroughly sour mood, he trekked back to Link's tent. It was the late afternoon, and he realized he was starving, but he was so ill with rage that the thought of food made his retch. He clamored, refused to answer Link's questions, and finally decided to sleep. He was completely incapacitated; he lay down, certain that he would never be able to accomplish anything of meaning ever again. 

All he could do was eat, sleep, and fail to move people. Where he once had pride, he was now immobile, and it made him vastly unsatisfied.

Link did not know what had caused the older man's tantrum, but he quietly withstood it, leaving for several hours and returning with food. He placed it next to him, silent, then vanished. It was just as well. Ganondorf did not touch it and proceeded to pass out.

He did eat, but he did so in the dark, hearing only Link's rhythmic breathing as the Hylian slept. Ganondorf was tempted to think further on various matters, but his mind would not yield, and so he gave into the darkness, resting but not quite restful.

-

_He could swear he heard the slave boy's voice somewhere in the night. The dream he had was vivid--he lay in sleep, and the boy slipped inside, breathing hard, stooping down by his side, whispering into his ear. _

_"Watch what he said." Or, at least, that's what he remembered the boy saying, though the more he thought on it, the more he wondered if he had heard correctly, or if the boy had really said anything at all beyond dream-like pseudo-words that ,in his recollections, would translate into impenetrable sayings._

_And then the boy was gone, like a breeze passing through, and Ganondorf remembered being very tired._

_He forgot the dream almost immediately, it being brief and confusing._

_-_

_Right before he woke up, he thought he saw Gershom's eyes staring into him, but he realized that they were instead the dimly lit eyes of that horror-stricken child. Strange, he had thought: They seem indistinguishable from one another._

_Like all other flames that danced in his mind's eye, these, too, were snuffed out._

* * *

Ganondorf jerked awake suddenly. For a moment he grappled with his surroundings, forgetting where he was, then remembered when he managed to bump into his slumbering traveling partner. Link did not awaken, but he did give a strong, disapproving groan before rolling over and continuing to sleep. 

He sputtered sleepily, collecting his wits and wearily trying to identify what had awakened him so rudely. Considerably disoriented, he edged away from his offended companion, and realigned himself with his own bedding. He listened for any disturbing noises, and looked for any sights that may give him more clue, but to no avail. Everything seemed normal.

He drearily rubbed his eyes and decided a dream must have shocked him awake. He gave a complaining exhale and settled back in hopes of falling asleep.

_Thump thump_. A yell, a dog barking. Two shadows, lit brilliantly by burning torches, passed the tent. Angry voices followed them.

Ganondorf craned his neck in sudden interest, but dared not move. The two shadows stopped short, mere feet from their tent.

They shot back and forth for a time, but as he eavesdropped he found that they were slaves, and they were speaking in their native tongue. However, the anger and excitement in their voices needed no translation. Something was up. He waited until they were gone, noted the direction they took, and swiftly stood to his feet.

It was much colder outside than he originally thought. It was pitch dark, the moon high in the sky, but the colors were shifting. Morning would arrive in a matter of hours. He took cover, trying hard to discern sounds from the wild buzzing of insects, and carefully made his way between tents.

Almost at once, he had to hide again; men emerged with lights, and he could only hold his breath and wait for them to move on. Carefully, he followed their steps and traced their route. They led him to the very edge of the camp before disappearing into the woods. Knowing better than to trail directly behind them, he determined to take a longer, circular route.

Walking through forest was no quiet business, with branches crackling underfoot, but he kept a healthy distance and stayed where the darkness was most dense. Off in the horizon, obscured by the thickness of brush, he could see fires, appearing to be no more than golden stars glinting through the trees. He sought their glow, put on his invisibility spell with great suspect, and moved with deliberation.

Voices, at first too far away to be of any consequence, grew clearer. There was distress, a penetrating cloak of terror. One voice rose above all others with screams and wails, like an injured animal. It took time for Ganondorf to believe that the noises he heard were, in fact, man-made.

The temperature dipped dramatically. Ganondorf could barely move. The dread he felt was all too familiar, and suddenly he desired only to turn back and go to sleep. He yearned for rest. Why did he even come out here? It would be better to not know what was so deeply wrong. No, he would rather ignore it and feel the comforts of slumber...

A tormented howl cut through the air, disturbing his apathetic thoughts and tugging unfairly at his curiosity. Grudgingly, he pushed himself towards the racket, at least wishing to know what was making it. Then, he promised himself, he would retreat.

-

He was at last close enough to the small circle of men to begin making out the scene, and fortunately, none had noticed him. No more than a ghoul, he looked on, noticing that it was an enclosed circle, with chatter going between them.

Someone was in the center, and to his frustration, he could not see who it was. Another man stood off to the side, and in giving him an extra glance, he saw blood glisten at the man's hand and chest. Yet, this injured slave was not the one who cried out; indeed, he was the most silent among them, his mouth sealed shut and his body paralyzed by what appeared to be guilt.

Ganondorf stood in wait for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than a few minutes. The noise made his patience wear thin, and after hearing not one word he could understand, he was becoming increasingly discouraged. He shivered from cold, tottered from sleepiness. His eyes searched for any clues, and just when he resolved to relent and return to his tent, new activity stirred. The slave master, awakened by the chaos, came crashing through the woods, howling and demanding to know what was going on...

His opportunity came in the form of a panicked scatter. The circle was dashed; slaves separated, realigned, moved in circles and in uncertainty. The protected center was exposed for those precious few seconds, and there, sprawled on the ground, weeping and shouting--

--_Dear goddesses, it's Anish._

Anish, who had stood proudly before him just the day before--

Ganondorf, so distracted by the slave's behavior, almost overlooked the body that was cradled in Anish's arms, pale and limp--

The master yelled furiously; Ganondorf, his curiosity brutally satisfied, fled.

-

Link was still asleep. The sky was starting to gape and bleed with color, dawn cracking with its usual agony. But the stars and darkness remained for a time, keeping Ganondorf content with his spot. He paced back and forth in front of the tent, pondering his options intensely. He knew what he saw, but knew not what to do about it.

The slave boy was dead, by what means he could not imagine--but it did not matter. The boy was dead and his brother was alive and wrathful. Having separated on bad terms the day before, Ganondorf was sure that the brother would stir up trouble soon enough.

Ganondorf, genuinely beginning to fear for his life, took another whirl around the entrance of the tent. He was undecided. He looked inside wearily, considering over and over the possibility... Should he awaken Link? It was early and he was not sure it would be necessary. Was his life really in danger?

It would be simple enough to shake the boy from his slumber and leave quietly in the protective cover of dusk. All he would have to explain is the impending threat on their safety... And besides all practical reasons, he felt he could no longer keep these things to himself. He was in dire need of counsel, advice. How was he to respond, now that death had trailed him once more, and fury would be inspired against him?

He stood very still, tormented with conflicts of interest, suddenly feeling envious and bitter that Link was allowed to rest so peacefully.

Ganondorf had no time to make his ultimate choice; fate decided for him. He felt a heavy blow to the back of his skull. It didn't claim his consciousness--he turned around in shock, reeling from pain. There before him stood Anish, face sunken and deprived of color, eyes so emblazoned with water and light that they shone like ebony. Anish's expression was frozen in a transition--from grief to anger--and it held furrowed eyebrows, bared teeth, quivering lips, wide eyes. He was disheveled, coated with sweat and tears, quaking with emotion.

He was attended by others, who watched in pensive silence. Ganondorf and Anish stared at each other, neither speaking or moving; the slave gripped a heavy stick, tainted with crimson, and awaited his victim's reaction.

Ganondorf just bled and gawked.

Anish burst into mobility, smashing the weapon against the crown of his head, screaming into his ears. "_Is this what you wanted? Is this what you wanted?_"

A few more blows, and Ganondorf's bewilderment left him, allowing him to wrestle the stick away from his attacker. However, Anish did not seem to notice the loss--he simply continued to howl and assault, wildly pounding him with his fists.

"_You animal! It's all your fault!_"

Finally, several of the men separated them, tearing the slave away and attempting to hold him back. But he yet screamed, kicking and spitting and declaring Ganon's life forfeit. The Gerudo, fazed but not emotionally moved, nursed his wounds and waited for an approaching calm.

Anish finally made a coherent statement, voice high-strung with unbridled hatred. "Do you want to know what happened to my brother? Huh?"

Ganondorf confessed carefully, pressing his palm against his forehead, "I do."

"He drowned himself."

Ganondorf wasn't quite sure how this was his fault.

"He had enough to endure, without you bothering him, harassing him! You had your fun pressing him and now he is dead! Are you happy now, that your belittling him for the indignities he suffered has pushed him to this?"

Was that the case? Ganondorf highly doubted it--it seemed to be Anish deflecting his own guilt for not intervening...

All the commotion had stirred Link awake, so the situation dissolved quickly thereafter. Link appeared, asked what the matter was, and all went silent. The slaves walked away, Ganondorf muttered some curses as he measured the extent of his bruising, and the two, hero and villain, re-entered the tent for the night.

Of course, not before Link barraged him with questions, many of which he did not know the answer to.

"Are you hurt?"

Link must have heard a portion of his beating, or perhaps he had heard the miserable groans Ganondorf was not being careful to hide. "Not badly," he replied, hoping to at least garner some pity for going through this unfair ordeal. "I'll have a headache in the morning, I suppose."

"Gods... What's going on?"

Ganondorf could have given the long version, beginning with what he had seen and tried to testify, but his head was starting to ache and he desired no petty talk. "...Well, you know the man who was screaming at me?"

"I heard him, yes."

"His brother killed himself."

"Oh." Link said this with considerable coldness, but he had so little personal connection, any sympathy expressed would be faked. "What does that have to do with you?"

"He thinks it's my fault."

"Is it?"

Ganondorf, not expecting the question, laughed inappropriately. "Uh, no."

"What are you going to do? What does he want?"

The questions passed him, and he felt no urgency to answer them. Instead, he told Link to go back to sleep; Link did, and Ganon followed his own advice.

It would be only a few more hours until they would have to move again, but it was a welcome respite.

* * *

Link sensed something out of place the next morning, and for a few minutes, he sat in silence, trying to find the source of this disturbance. He heard breathing much closer than he thought he should, and instinctively reached out to his left, intending to reach for his knife. 

Instead, his elbow bumped into someone's knee; Link flinched in surprise before he realized who the perpetrator was.

He irritably breathed a sigh of relief. "Gods, don't scare me like that."

Ganondorf, sitting on his knees in total silence, did not apologize.

Link grumbled, rubbed his eyes in apprehension, and joked, "Have you just been sitting there, watching me sleep? Because that would be... Really weird."

"Link."

"What?"

"Do..." Ganondorf hesitated. "Do you know today is?"

Link didn't understand the nature of the question, so he blurted out clumsily, "...Tuesday?"

"_No,_ Link. It's the fourth day."

Link whispered under his breath sleepily. "The fourth day since... Oh. Oh, right."

"I have today and tomorrow."

"...Right, right..."

Ganondorf had hoped he wouldn't have to be so direct, and that Link wouldn't be so evasive. "I need to know when I will have leave."

"Look, I don't know..."

Ganondorf was immediately impatient with him. "I can't wait any longer. I need your word, and I need it _now_."

"I cannot give it to you now. You will just have to--"

Link had expected the man to berate him, perhaps scream at him. He would have excused such violence; he would have endured it. But Ganondorf did not let him finish. He stood up and left, silence following him like a cloud.

Link could not imagine what sort of rage could keep Ganondorf from speaking...

-

Shadows and

figures.

There were no possibilities. The isolation was real and the afterlife was upon him, a shifting burden that forced him to readjust his steps.

He knew he was being followed, but what did it matter? They scattered like cockroaches at his very sight of them; he felt no pity, no remorse. What was he to do, with the desire to travel lodged in his throat, but with nowhere to go? He wandered in a futile hope that his compulsion to move would exhaust itself. Eventually, he thought, I will want no more than to sit and be still, and it will be then that I can reason and compel myself to sanity.

But it seemed that he had no opportunity to grow weary. Eyes were on him constantly, keeping him corralled--with every corner he turned, there were sure to be faces encouraging him to turn back. Whatever word had gone around about last night, it apparently alleged him. This made him more nervous than he wished to admit. He had no way to know whether danger was imminent; having no knowledge of these villagers' tendencies towards violence meant he only had the power to wait. No doubt the slave owner thought of him as a malicious destructor of property, or something similar...

He didn't care anymore--he wanted to leave. Whether Link came with him or not, he had to get out of here. He loathed the atmosphere, the persistent tension, the barren, paranoid minds of these rats. All they ever did was plot against him, make his life hell--

What he would give to have one last opportunity to bring retribution on their heads!

He thought he might tell Link as much, and declare his own freedom. And why shouldn't he? He had never really belonged to the boy. It was all theatrics, just for show.

That was what he was going to do.

Right now.

-

Ganondorf felt much better now that he had resolved something for once, but his emotional victory was interrupted. The boy he had just set out looking for appeared behind him, grabbing for him demandingly. Ganondorf thought this was his opportunity to do as he planned, so without hesitation he turned to him.

"--Link--"

"Shut up and listen," Link whispered, with more authority in his voice than usual. "You know where the horses are kept?"

Ganondorf blinked. "I do."

Link nodded to himself, confirming something in his mind.

Ganon lost patience with his secrecy. "What is it?"

"Good, good," the boy additionally murmured, finally answering his query with a dismissive, "Tonight, grab one and go."

Link swiftly stepped aside as to avoid anything further, and perhaps he thought he was doing dignified and gracious. But Ganondorf found the tone of the exchange condescending, and so he grabbed him by the shoulder. "Link!"

Link whirled about and defensively exclaimed, "Your people are horse thieves, aren't they? You'll manage quite well."

Ganondorf had no answer.

* * *

He packed in silence, while Link sat in wait. He knew Link had something to say--otherwise he would not be here--so he, in anticipation, said nothing. As he gathered his belongings, it became even clearer to him how meager they were: he had no money, little food, few personal items. If he hoped to live more than a day, he would need to restock. This, he realized, would be a trick to do without money. 

He would either have to steal what he needed, or appeal to Link for money (after all, Link _had _received a generous gift on his behalf, so it was rightfully his). The latter filled him with self-loathing.

He was stealing a horse as it was, what would it be to steal a little more?

He precognition proved correct and Link spoke. "So what are your plans?"

He settled his things, unsatisfied still, and stood to his feet. "I'll head south. Do whatever I need to there."

"And after that?"

Ganondorf shuffled and made an uncertain sound.

"You're not coming _back_, are you?"

Ganondorf smirked weakly. "Certainly not. I was thinking about going back to the desert."

"Hmm. I don't think you'll be welcome there."

"I don't have to meet anyone. I only want to see it."

Link nodded in understanding, though not wholly assured.

"You know, I really don't get it," Ganondorf at last announced. "Why are you letting me go? Shouldn't you be concerned about throwing me back into the Realm? It is your destined duty, isn't it, boy?"

"At one time, yes," Link carefully began. "But I'm not so sure now."

"What could you be unsure about?"

"I'm not sure it's my duty right now. It was at one time. But now?"

"Ah." Ganondorf cocked his head, clearly contriving something. "I thought maybe you had doubts."

"Doubts?"

Ganondorf held the thought strongly, but something told him to back down. "Never mind," he mumbled, gathering his things and quickly changing the subject. "What will you be doing, then?"

"Waiting."

The answer was surprisingly simple; Ganondorf instinctively thought it strange of him, so he looked at it, hoping to draw more meaning from his expression. Link's face seemed to be blank, though Ganondorf could swear he saw a flash of apprehension somewhere at his brow.

"I'll make my way. I've done it plenty of times before."

Did he really buy that? Ganondorf wondered if he should doubt Link; the boy was obviously telling the truth. He had come this way before. But the uncertainty did not lift, even when evening came; even when his hands were firm on the reins of the horse he was about to take; even when he looked over his shoulder in cold calculation, wondering if someone would leap out unexpectedly to stop him.

But the night was full of groaning. He had no time to speculate Link's fate, or read the fortunes of this gaggle of miserable people. If they were to be swept away in a disaster of their own doing, and if Link wished to be swept away along with them, that was their choice. All Ganondorf knew was he had nothing here, and even though he had nothing out _there,_ he had everything to lose.

What did it matter?

Everyone seemed on edge. Even the beast in front of him flinched and looked about wildly. All was on the verge of collapse--the air was thick and savage, making it hard for him to breathe. Nothing seemed to him more important than gaining freeness of breath. But he had no trouble slipping out--the people were self-consumed with fear and anticipation. A few saw him ride away, but none were willing to stop him. They rose and faltered like a tide.

His sense of security had been toppled. What he once saw as the hostile world of Hylian wilderness he now embraced with vigor if it meant leaving this prison behind. There, he could sort himself out and become something akin to what he once was. He would reclaim himself from the forces that desired to scatter him.

The horse finally eased into a confident pace. He stirred it to a brisk canter for the first few, defining moments of his leave: it felt natural to speed up at least some, lest someone change their mind and decide to pursue. No one did. He felt air move against him for the first time in what felt like years.

He took a fresh bite of the air rushing past him. It tasted of death.

* * *

Ganondorf stooped down and started into the water. It reflected the dark so perfectly that it changed its form--it swirled with chaos and slick dark hues, gushing like bile at his feet. The horse snorted and tossed its head impatiently, forcing him from his dream-like state. 

He had decided, against his own intentions, that he could move no farther. He had set out thinking he would travel at least ten miles, but he was unused to his new ride, and furthermore, traveling through the woods in the dead of night was no simple matter. He gave in after a few hours of untangling himself from groping branches, and walked by foot in search of a place to camp.

He had found himself at the same river they had traced on their arrival. It seemed no worse a place than anywhere else, so there he watered the horse out of cold necessity and prepared the grounds.

Ganondorf was far from satisfied with what he managed to steal. With so little time to prepare for his journey, and with little knowledge of where items were stocked, he could only grab what was immediately apparent--dried goods, various foods, unnecessary tools, and a plethora of tobacco products (which, in retrospect, had no practical usefulness for him). In leafing through his things, he had to face the reality that he would not be able to survive on what he had for long.

He would have to re-stock eventually. But where, and by what means? He no longer trusted his magic to keep him hidden, and there were few places where he would be outwardly welcome. He could venture to the desert, but he would most certainly die there unless the Gerudos embraced him, and somehow the chances of that...

For the time being, he tried to push the thoughts away. Freedom was not much of a luxury when he was trapped in a world that despised him.

What a thorny matter this was becoming...

Pressure met the crown of his head, easing him into a stasis of suffering. The darkness was utter, and the water nearby brimmed with song. He felt close to the grave, and in that moment, when he was stuck between exhaustion and comatose, it did not bother him. His life was set on its long way down and he did not feel worried--he was winded, but he was also touched with exhilaration. He never thought going downhill could be so exciting.

The end of his journey, the inevitable crash, when all of his existence would be rendered for naught, when he faded with fickle screams; at the end, when he would gnash his teeth, tear out his hair and die without a hint of dignity or joy--

--That was so, so far from him.

The black surrounding him merged with the black of his consciousness.

-

"Ganondorf."

_Goddesses, it's too early._ He tossed his arm to the side, hoping to discourage the voice from bothering him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly, and in a sudden bout of early-morning rage, he opened his eyes and swore.

Upon waking up, he expected to see the ceiling of a tent and, perhaps, Link's face. But his eyes met the clear sky above, and once he regained his senses and looked about, he saw nothing but wilderness and a horse tied down several yards away.

Ganondorf was a bit startled by the realism of what he just felt, but knew it was the result of a vivid dream. Troubled that he had already resorted to imagining things, he took his surroundings into account and decided, after all, that it was not _that _early.

He would have to make up the time he lost from the night before. He grudgingly skipped breakfast, and instead retrieved some water from the riverbank. It was tasteless, but it was cool and filled his stomach for the time being.

He wandered about recklessly, hoping to find something edible in the forest before he truly set on his way, but he gave up quickly. The vegetation this far north was alien to him, and most of the plants seemed past their season. He clenched his teeth, frustration setting him on edge--his mental resolve to abstain from food was undermined by habit. It had taken no time for him to become spoiled by frequent meals.

Progress was slow. Ganondorf felt things he could not identify: primarily, an increasing suspicion against the soundness of his own body. He tried to compensate by leaning his dependency upon the stability of his steed, concentrating on its plodding steps and flexing muscles. For a time, he thought he was beginning to recover.

Then he forgot where he was going.

This revelation brought him to a sudden halt--he pulled on the horse's reins and tried to gain his bearings. But no matter how carefully he plotted his intentions out, nothing would come of it. He thought it a fluke, but he traced back a little further, and even tried to remember who he was, everything turned up blank.

It fell upon him like a heavy load: he could remember nothing.

He stumbled onto the ground, head spinning. His body felt numb, all except for a piercing pain at his eyes. His sight became murky and confused, and he was unable to walk in any sensible way. But just when he was sure he was about to perish, illness rose in him, and in a sudden heave, his body rejected the water in his belly.

The liquid spilled into the earth, but it glistened like ink, and his mouth began to burn and taste of ash. Bewildered but feeling the cloud lifting, he spat the remains of the foul substance out, and slowly, painfully, had his memory return to him. Even as context was revived, however, he could make no sense of what just happened. He staggered, with only a faint theory that he had been poisoned.

Poison? He looked back to the ground, and though he was still bleary in vision and thought, he doubted that water from a river--

His hairs stood on end.

Someone was standing nearby. He could feel its presence, its eyes on him, and he cautiously lifted his sight inch by inch, until he could just perceive its feet. It was as far as he dared to look upon it.

_Just where do you think you're going?_

Ganondorf recognized the voice perfectly. "Where I wish," he replied aloud, hoping that his voice sounded as confident as he intended. "You've been away. I assumed you lost interest."

Lethe burbled with amusement. _Why would I lose interest in __**you?**__ You're far too fascinating._

Ganondorf huffed defiantly at the suggestion and failed to feel flattered. He lowered his eyes and turned from the standing figure, thinking that his gesture had adequately expressed his feelings on the issue and Lethe would leave him be.

He was met instead with another figure, full in form, vivid in picture--and it stared into his soul in a most familiar manner.

The slave boy--the drowned slave boy--appeared in what he recognized immediately to be an apparition, though for a brief second he did doubt its nature as such. He could not move a muscle; its eyes kept him still with an enrapturing gaze, and he found himself distracted by its features. The figure was in a form that seemed more like a gimmick than its true condition: it was drenched from head to toe, skin tinged an asphyxiated blue, and water streaming from its eyes and mouth. Breaths aggravated the flow of water, making it gush with water every few moments. The apparition did not look concerned about its state. Instead, it grunted and laughed at his reaction, an unpleasant gurgling and choking noise complementing its amusement.

It wagged its head side to side, then mocked him. "Did I surprise you?"

Ganondorf had to admit this was not an image he expected Lethe to imitate. He recovered his nerve swiftly. "This is the first time you have actually... Appeared."

The boy's glossy eyes rolled. "Sadly, it is not so," it sighed. "I'm still quite a ways away; I'm just having fun with your memories."

It offered him a wry smile. He was unperturbed. "What do you want?"

"I want to know _why_ you're leaving."

"...Because I can."

There was an instant when Ganondorf could see a streak of irritation cross its face. "Oh, I see. Since I so graciously relieved you of an inconvenient connection, you are now walking out on me."

Ganondorf was perplexed by its anger. "I... Don't understand. You yourself wanted me to leave him behind. You _told_ me to, after taking him, saying you were going to kill him."

Stunned by the apparent lack of depth of perception, Lethe was speechless for a moment. "I thought you understood," it at last dismissed with an air of exasperation. "That was a lesson. You were_supposed_ to learn something."

"And that 'something' would be...?"

He was shocked at how quickly the usually calm and resolved being became frustrated. It spoke to him as though he were its rebellious child, and smiled apprehensively, trying and failing to reassure him. "Look, I need him. I really do. And I need him alive."

Ganondorf shifted, but his nervousness was gone. Its tone had become pleading, almost whiny--there was no way he could continue to harbor any fear of it. Feeling more in command than before, Ganondorf was empowered to dismiss it. "Get him yourself. If you are more powerful than the gods, then you can surely find him on your own."

He turned away, and as swiftly as he had gained confidence over it, the being shattered it with a snarl. "You know _nothing _of my power. Don't you dare turn away from me!"

Ganondorf didn't feel threatened enough to stop, but he did glance over his shoulder out of sheer curiosity. The figure had disappeared, and apparently had not been replaced. No longer having a physical materialization of the voice made Ganon surprisingly anxious--he looked in different directions in hopes of it recurring.

But the sound of its scorn grated his mind instead, screeching, _I could do __**anything**__ to you! I could reconnect you with the boy, make you feel his pain again--make you feel __**double**__ or __**triple**__ his pain--I could make you love him, hate him, whatever I wish--I could blot out every ambition in you! I could make you __**tear yourself apart, limb from limb**__... You need to learn that your fate, ultimately, means little to me,__**because you're replaceable**_

_I'm going to tell this yo__u__**nice and slow**__ because I know you're not too bright. You __**need**__ to return to the village, fetch him __**alive**__, and bring him to __**me**__. And if you __**don't,**__ I am perfectly capable of putting you __**back**__ where I found you, or maybe someplace __**worse. **_

* * *

Ganondorf did not like to be told what to do, but choice was not available. His escape from slavery had been brief and unsatisfying, but if he wished to avoid the consequences of angering a renegade god, he would have to thrive in it, or at least find a way of relating to the boy in a different manner. 

He realized why he had returned to Link before, and didn't feel the same desire now--the role he had adopted for that short time as a servant had been demeaning, certainly, but it gave him a sense of context. At least then he knew where he should go and what he should do. With an immediate threat to this role, he did not hesitate to save Link: it simply seemed to be a natural response. He feared that without Link, he would have no means of defining himself.

But now, the loss had already taken place. Without the connection, they became grudging equals incapable of interacting. There was nothing to salvage, to save from destruction... They were not a master and slave, nor were they friends, nor were they enemies. What could they possibly be?

Theories rolled about in his head, trying to create a world which they could both peacefully inhabit, but his fight for a comprehensible reality was interrupted. He rode up a hill, looked down on the outskirts of the camp, and heard nothing but the shrill echo of screams. A line of horses and carts, piled with possessions, property, and prisoners steadily paraded away, leaving only misery in its wake.

He had missed the revolution that he had recommended.

The group hadn't moved far, and he had a bad feeling, so without thinking twice, he headed straight for the revolutionaries. At best, he would have a friendly chat with them--at worst, he was prepared to be slaughtered by a horde of disgruntled men. The fact that the difference between these two scenarios largely depended on Anish's mood did not put him at ease.


	9. it connects us all

A/N: Can't make much of an excuse for the delay, except for a serious case of writer's block. I've also been doing some serious re-organizing after I realized some of my original ideas were a complete and utter mess (there still is plenty of a mess, but that's pretty much what I get for posting my story as I write it).

I have no idea how long the next chapter should take, and I've yet again switched up chapter divisions once I realized how long this got.

**chapter 9: it connects us all**

_Link wished strongly that he hadn't come back at all. The castle was somber, sickly. There were simply too many ways this could go horribly wrong. He prayed the King wouldn't hear his steps, but the hallway stubbornly amplified his every move. He wouldn't be able to stay long._

_Link held his breath, rapped on the door, waited. No words were exchanged: the door slipped open, and he saw her face reflect in the darkness. The quiet was deafening._

_She spoke haphazardly. "Link?"_

_"Princess."_

_She silently pushed the door ajar, allowing him to step inside, and, as to not make too much noise, closed it behind him as delicately as possible. A moment of retrospection captured them both, so neither moved until she came to her senses and spoke. "Hold on, let me..."_

_She moved around in the pitch black, searching for some source of light. A candle flared and crackled, and a soft orange glow poured across her cheek. Her eyes were glistened with worry._

_"Link, what's going on?"_

_She was playing dumb. Link licked his lips in anxiety, avoiding her closeness and turning away the light. "I have to leave, princess."_

_"Leave?"_

_"I'm joining the army. I'm fighting in the war"_

_Zelda stood silent in her nightgown, nails tightening into her palms. He braced for her reaction, nearly expecting violence, but the shock sent her dizzily to her bedside. "Oh... Oh, Link." The bed creaked from pressure and her breaths turned heavy. "You don't have to do this," she pleaded._

_"Yes, I do."_

_"Link, you don't owe the world anything more. You've already fought so hard... I wouldn't dream of having you--"_

_"It's my choice, Princess."_

_She paused pensively before admitting, "I know."_

_Link watched her carefully, noticing the look of betrayal that crossed her delicate features. He tried, and failed, to be angry with her._

_Her last bit of strength allowed her to speak again. "It's... the Gerudos, isn't it?"_

_Link wasn't sure what she meant._

_"I know you care very much for them. I feel sort of... Jealous." She smiled weakly, knowing the foolishness of her words. "I haven't seen you at all, Link. I want to know you. Help you. I owe you at least that much."_

_Link knew this was coming. Given half a chance, Zelda would have swept him away from the desert and given him permanent hospice in the castle. She had this constant worry that he was suffering more than he ought, and that the best way to assist him was the offer him shelter. He was not offended by her protective thoughts--he knew they were more driven by guilt than pity._

_But he knew he would feel out of place in luxury. To struggle was vital for him; it was as necessary as breathing._

_"You don't owe me anything, Princess."_

_Zelda did not reply. She sullenly placed her hand over the candlelight, the heat prickling her pale fingers. Link lowered his eyes, and knew she didn't believe him._

_When they said their last goodbye, she tried to look into his eyes, and he could not bear it. The intimacies between them were undeniable, and he understood how strongly she felt for him, but he had no ability to return those feelings. He knew they existed somewhere in him, and he would agonize in his search for them, only to be disappointed. He felt hollowed out, incapable of affection. He could only feel anger and apathy in close succession; everything else was folly._

_He pretended to smile, pretended to kiss her on the lips, pretended to promise that he would be back and everything would be fine. The last he saw of her face was the faint impression of her cheeks, lips, and eyes in the candle light, and the ghoulish glow of her skin in the dark once the candle was snuffed out..._

_Link tried one last time to feel a form of regret, because he knew he may never see her again. He grasped into thin air, heart pounding, eyes burning. But all that answered him was an empty echo, and he knew then he had failed her._

* * *

_Things had gone horribly wrong._

Link stooped low, feeling the rattle of the carriage beneath his feet and hearing the tension in his neighbor's breathing. He wrung his wrists, bound as they were, testing the strength of the knot. He could tell it was created in a rush--they did little to inhibit his movement.

He was surprised by the quietness of the entire coup d'etat: the slaves had moved almost in silence, entering tents to politely inform selected citizens of their new status as prisoners. Met with blades and wills to use them, few challenged this message, and as a result little blood was shed. Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, the village passed into dumb submission.

Link strained his hearing, but still nothing seemed to be amiss. He expected more of a struggle, though he personally did not fight back, as he saw no reason to. He had been a prisoner before; he did not fear it nor loathe it. He had known plenty of men who despised it, feeling degraded in such a state, but he considered the opinion simplistic. To be a prisoner was simply another way to get by, with its own set of advantages and disadvantages. Men who were so humiliated by it, he thought, must think much too highly of themselves.

He tried to create an image of his enclosed environment. The caravan was small, cramped, and as far as he could tell, only two others were in his company. There was another prisoner tied and sitting next to him, and a guard. He knew it was a guard because the man would occasionally stand to his feet, utter a few foreign words outside, then take a seat once more.

After what seemed to be an exasperating amount of time sitting in silence, he nudged the other prisoner.

"Don't touch me," the familiar voice whined in terror.

Link groaned--it was the slave master, probably their most prized possession recovered from their raid. Knowing full well that the man's future was bleak, he spoke with particularly little sympathy. "Oh_._ _You_."

Link felt pressure at his ribs in physical retaliation. The master burst aloud, breaking the volume level and nearly resorting to a yell. "Don't 'oh, you' me, you fink! This is you and your servant's fault, I'll have you know!"

"Shut up," the guard suddenly deadpanned, striking the slave master on the head. The master whimpered in pain but fell quiet.

Link sat and waited intently for some time before redirecting his efforts to the guard. "Of all people, why'd you pair me up with him?"

"_I_ didn't."

Link fretted at the incompleteness of the answer, tapping the soles of his feet on the floorboards, jostled by every bump the caravan encountered.

The guard seemed to revel in his discomfort, but gave him a vague explanation. "I was told to put you here. You are both slave masters, aren't you?"

"No," Link contradicted quite irritably. "I freed the only one I had."

"But you had one. That's all I know."

"What's the plan for 'the slave masters'?" he prodded, hoping to gain a clue into his own fate.

"I don't know. Perhaps they will kill you. Perhaps they will not. I do not think they have decided."

"You're not very helpful," Link criticized, against his better judgment.

The guard laughed, mistaking his impatience for genuine humor. The boy recognized the discrepancy in discipline, and so he questioned, "You aren't going to hit me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were quick to hit him. Why don't you hit me?"

The guard huffed. "I don't hit cripples."

Link indignantly gave the space in the front of him a hard kick, and successfully struck his target, who swore at him and took back his virtue, delivering a sudden blow to the head. Satisfied by the equality of abuse, Link slumped back and ceased speaking.

* * *

The migration stuttered to a premature halt, all on the account of a misfit standing in their way. Anish did not immediately intervene, assuming that either the problem would be dealt with by his men, or the disrupter would wisely step aside. As time passed, the likelihood of either scenario dwindled, and so Anish finally decided that his presence was necessary.

He pulled his horse out of line and was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Anish!" Ganondorf called out, not nearly as confidently as he intended. "So good to see you."

Anish approached but did not conceal his irritation. "What are you doing here?"

"I have goods to claim."

"You were not here--there is nothing for you to claim."

"Do you have my master?"

Anish would not answer and turned his steed aside. "Get out of the way, now."

"I just want him, and if it's not too much trouble, a horse to accompany him."

It took several moments for Anish to formulate any sort of response in his mind. He swerved in increasing aggravation, wondering what could so grossly misguide a man into such expectations. Anish clutched a knife strapped to his side. "Why should I do you such a favor?"

"Because," Ganondorf said coolly, "I could easily kill you."

To claim this was a gamble he originally hoped he would not have to make. The fact was, he had no certainty that his binds no longer extended to death. If what he suspected was true, then taking any of their lives would not be an option: to do so would kill him as well. Lethe hadn't been specific in all of the alterations of their deal, but this tenant didn't seem to be lifted.

He had to count on his bluffing to give him leverage.

Anish gave him an appropriately disbelieving look, glanced over his shoulder at the others as if to compare his assessment, then turned back to him with a gentle guffaw. "If that were the case, I think you would have already done that, instead of running away."

"I didn't run away," he contradicted, stung by the fact that what Anish suggested was at least partially true. "I had my own--"

"All right," Anish interrupted wearily. "But I could easily kill _you_, couldn't I? Why don't you forget all about this and go on your way?"

Ganondorf stood his ground. "Under the circumstances, I cannot allow it. I require him of you."

"Do you have any money?"

"...What?"

Anish gave him a bored look. "Buy him from me," he callously dared.

Ganondorf spat and could no longer contain his frustration. "What makes you think I'm going to _buy _him from you? He's rightfully mine!"

"It doesn't work that way. You were _his_ property, not the other way around."

Ganondorf ranted as though he hadn't heard him. "--Besides, I don't have any money! Link has plenty, get the price you want from him."

Anish sighed and spoke with heavy condescension. "I do not think you understand. _He _is our property. We also happened to rob him, so no, he does not have money. The money you speak of is _ours_. You cannot pay a man by promising him what he already has."

Ganondorf stomped on the ground and had to restrain himself from howling. "Goddesses, will you _shut your trap?_ It was sort of funny the first time I met you, but it's getting _quickly tiresome_. Just give him to me and I'll leave--then we'll both be happy!"

Anish regarded him momentarily, smirked with a disappointed shake of his head, and turned away.

Ganondorf, having not immediately considered any alternative option, let his tongue rule the moment. "Gods, no wonder. I'd kill myself too, if I had to live knowing I was related to you."

He expected some sort of emotional response at least, something that would either bide time or end his life, preferably the former. But Anish did not even look at him or hesitate in his step. He only spoke to the others in a collected manner, explaining something to them privately, and headed for the back of the line.

Ganondorf, missing the exchange completely, did not move. He stood in silence, watching the riders at the front carefully, trying to read their intentions. For a time, it seemed they had none: they too waited quietly, occasionally chattering amongst themselves, and showing no concern whatsoever.

The peace didn't last--the line shuddered awake and began to move forward, disregarding his presence. The rider at the front gave him a questioning look as he drew closer, but the Gerudo did not give any signs of budging. Naturally, the rider nudged his horse alongside him, planning to simply pass by. Ganondorf, in a moment of frantic disregard, leaped back into his path, forcing the animal to stumble and stomp in frustration.

"Give me what I came for!"

The rider murmured at him foully, and again tried to move around him.

Ganondorf wrestled the horse's reins away from him, and all hell broke loose.

-

Ganon had been so intent on blocking the path of the single rider that he missed the commotion building around him. A circle gathered in an instant, surrounding him with knives and notoriously short tempers. Suddenly recognizing his mortality, he dropped the reins and stepped away, but not before the offended rider made his way to the ground and hurled threats.

Ganondorf was surprised by how quickly the situation had spiraled out of control, and again tried to reason with them. But the rider was too infuriated to listen to him, and nothing he said seemed to make an impact. The group around them, too, was not convinced that Ganon had only meager intentions.

"I want one man, one horse!"

Shouts drowned him out. Whether a language barrier was at fault, or whether it was the excitement already stirred in their hearts after just returning from a raid, he was to never find out. In a final attempt to keep himself from being killed, he hastily stepped to the horse's side, attempted to reach for the rider, and yelled for recognition.

The stir was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of dust, and with the overwhelming clatter and stench of warfare, he lost the advantage of clear senses. He felt a sharp blow to the head and reeled in a search for the culprit, but his eyes burned and he could see nothing.

Something happened--for a moment he was unsure what it was--and a body crashed into his, bringing with it a rise of piercing pain in his side. Ganondorf, stunned though he was, realized he had just been stabbed, and with no means to cope with the alarm, he reacted as he naturally would. The air swelled, crackled with energy, and struck the nearest body without hesitation or mercy.

He was still dizzy but he was awakened from his stupor by the smell of burning flesh. He wasn't granted a moment's pause to comprehend what had just happened--had he a second, he may had realized that the man was dead, and that he was responsible. Instead, the smell the smoke and death whipped them into a fury, and they swarmed him like hornets.

It was surreal, almost like a dream. He couldn't think; he didn't have time to think. He just struck them down, blow after blow, one by one, magic coursing through him like blood and tearing through them indiscriminately. He watched as they fell, sometimes in clear sight and others beneath billowing clouds of dust, and was sure that this would end quickly.

_One fell, hit the dirt with a resounding thud._

He could kill. He could _kill_. But even this thought escaped him.

_Another one, gasp, crunch. Another one. Another one, scream, thud._

For a few seconds, after killing a dozen or so, he felt something akin to panic. Usually, a group would have backed down by now. They would have realized the futility of the fight and surrendered. But these men, they were different--for every one that fell, an angrier one took his place, and he wondered if they were going to fight to the last man.

_Can't see anymore. Doesn't matter. Strike, strike, kill, kill, it'll hit someone eventually._

He couldn't keep track of the numbers. He gradually stopped caring, and decided he was content with ripping through every single one of them if he had to. The wound at his side ruptured, rushed with blood, simultaneously fueling his growing anger and draining his strength.

The noise ceased without reason, making him momentarily suspect that he had succeeded in killing them all. He froze, but once the dust settled, he realized this was not the case. Anish was shouting over them, approached him unarmed, apparently so dazed by the death around him that he dropped his weapon. Anish, lost in anger, did not bother screaming obscenities that Ganondorf could understand--Ganondorf was at first so stunned by the man's irrationality that he did not respond.

The bodies began to stink powerfully of charred flesh; Ganondorf blinked the dust from his eyes, but his eyesight was still poor. He was beginning to feel the high again, the adrenaline-rush that came with devastating his enemies. It had been many long years since he felt it, and now by some bizarre twist of fate, he had tasted it once more, and was not ready to give it up.

Ganondorf's head was pounding. He gathered enough intelligibility to ask a question. "Where's your weapon?"

Anish came close, with no apparent regard for his own life, and spat at him. He shouted a few more profanities, still in his native language, and moved onto incantations.

Ganondorf recognized it too late. He brought up his hand, indifferently deciding that Anish deserved to die, and aimed his magic with deadly force. The magic immediately malfunctioned, and crackling with hunger, it turned on him.

It took mere seconds for the power to rush through his body and ransack it with destructive force, and he screamed in a blind fury as it spread through his limbs.

Anish stood before him, watching the man buckle in agony, but was disappointed to see Ganondorf had miraculously survived. Had the Triforce of Power not interfered, this would have indeed been his fate.

Anish sneered and prepared a new spell. "I'll just have to kill you directly."

Ganondorf's life, however, was not to be so easily claimed: the Triforce, knowing of the danger its possessor was in, took action. Just as Anish finished the next verse of incantations and aimed its deadly force, the Triforce bit back with the vengeance of a god. A sudden spark lit the man's eyes, at first seeming to be nothing but a flash of light, but the spark was enough. Anish, his face frozen in shock, fell back into the dust and moved no more.

Ganondorf did not at wholly understand his victory until a few moments later, when he recovered from his blow and cleared his vision. He did not waste his time gloating--he instead stepped over the body and staggered towards the rest of the line. Eyes bloodshot and temper worn thin, he shouted to the scattered remains of the clan. "_Well_?"

The challenge resonated with the young survivors, but with their leader slain and few members still alive, it seemed decided that the fight would be suicidal to continue. No more approached him.

As the evidence of his enemies disappeared in their retreat, he felt more at ease and started his intended quest. He maneuvered around the bodies littering the ground, grumbling all the way. The fight elated him but at the same time made him tired and annoyed. It was a regrettable and completely avoidable conflict.

He clutched his side and suddenly remembered that he had been stabbed. Somehow he had forgotten about it and now the suffering of it redoubled. He cursed, hobbled to a random caravan, and peered inside. He met with the gazes of many prisoners, but did not see Link in the midst of them.

Ganondorf, not knowing where to look, began searching down the line. This started to take too much time, and after searching through six and producing no results, he became impatient. He looked broadly down the road, trying to estimate exactly how many caravans there were. In doing this he noticed some of the clan hanging back but still very present. They watched him from afar, only increasing his aggravation.

He gave into frustration and hollered, "So? Where the hell is he?"

They were too far away for him to see or hear their reaction. He felt blood running down his body, soaking his clothes and inflaming his nostrils with the scent of copper. He grunted, tried to fix his wound and moved on.

Fortunately he did not have to search much longer, as he saw the boy climb out of one of the wagons towards the end of the line. Link had apparently heard, and recognized, his voice.

Ganondorf expected some sort of relief or gratitude, though nothing of his previous experience with Link suggested as much. Nevertheless, he approached him and greeted him solemnly. "There you are."

The boy looked particularly stoic that day, and made Ganondorf nearly suspect he hadn't been taken prisoner at all, but merely picked up as a friendly guest. He certainly didn't look offended by the whole ordeal; indeed, he took more offense to Ganondorf's presence than his untimely imprisonment. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"

Maybe it was the blood loss making Ganon a tad woozy, or the unprecedented adrenaline rush he was experiencing. Perhaps it was even the after-effects of being electrocuted by his own magic, frying his nerves and mind. Whatever it was that caused it, he couldn't help but feel very proud of himself for what he had done. He might be forgiven for confusing his satisfaction with destruction for a feeling of heroism--indeed, if vigilantism more often involved indiscriminate slaughter, he may had taken very different sides throughout his life. Whatever process was going through his head, it made his voice lofty and stupefied, nearly intoxicated. "I'm here to rescue you," he exclaimed, fumbling to grab Link by the arm.

Link maneuvered aside and didn't appear impressed. "Uh-huh."

Ganondorf stared at him for a few seconds before recognizing an inconsistency. "How did you..."

Link lost interest and shuffled away, wrestling with the binds at his wrists and walking along the line.

Ganon ambled along after him. "You just stepped out? You couldn't have done that before and saved me some time?"

"The guard just ran away. Was that your doing?"

Ganon went silent, and noticing Link was attempting to search the other caravans. "What are you looking for?"

Link was still on edge and didn't have any interest in their conversation. He turned around, wrenching at his bound wrists once more, then proffered them to him. "Make yourself useful and cut this free, will you?"

Ganondorf scrabbled for his knife and obeyed, hoping to earn some cooperation. The binds fell to the ground; Link said nothing and continued on his business.

Concluding Link must be looking for his things, since he obviously didn't have his sword at hand, Ganondorf joined him in his search. He circled around, and without thinking, decided to look back into the caravan from which Link had just escaped. Instead of discovering Link's weaponry, he stumbled upon a familiar character, who startled him so strongly that he did little more than stare.

The slave master, for his part, seemed equally thrilled with the reunion. He edged away and tried to hide his face in hopes that Ganon would lose interest (this was an utterly natural but useless defense, since he was in fact the only noticeable thing within the caravan).

If Ganondorf thought for a moment that if it were a feasible task, he would have claimed this one, too, and set out on their way. He considered it strongly for a time, and was just about to take his newly discovered prize, but was interrupted by an irate Hylian boy.

"What are you doing?" Link barked, attacking him from the side and forcing him back. "Don't you think I would have _known_ if I were sitting right _next_ to my weapon?"

"I was only making certain."

Link made a disbelieving snort. "I'm sure. I know who you're looking at, and no, you will not be touching him."

Ganondorf did not appreciate his intentions being outed so quickly. He glanced back at the slave master, who granted him only a brief look in return. What he felt then was an indescribable force untainted by pity or mercy. He wanted to kill this man, and badly. "They'll kill him for sure," he countered, in defense of killing him then and there.

Link, misunderstanding Ganondorf's nuance, replied impatiently, "And so would you. Let's _go_."

Link had found what he needed and was currently prowling the grounds, trying to figure out the scenario that had led to his release. Ganondorf was tempted to simply give in and slaughter the cowering fool, but wasn't sure he could do it without Link hearing it. As he thought on it, Link was discovering the bodies scattered along the earth and was quite obstinately horrified by it. _What did he expect? _Ganondorf thought bitterly, grabbing a horse and preparing a swift leave. He gave a final, pensive gaze at the slave master, and then forced himself onward. He took solace in the thought that the man was going to die anyhow, though not at his own hands as he wished. Things had to be different--they had always been different, from the very beginning of all this. He couldn't afford to do as he wanted.

-

Arrows started to fly at them. Link was still shaken and riled, screaming curses at him and for a moment refusing to move. Ganondorf could not understand this display of emotion, so he did not betray any sympathy as he forced him along, partially to save him from the oncoming rush of angry men, but mostly to snap him out of his furious stupor. The only time he felt sorry for Link was a brief realization that the reaction lacked any logic to it: the deaths were necessary, deserved, and Link had no connection to any of the men who perished. How stupid of him, then, to become upset over it.

Ultimately he misread Link's despair as evidence of some sort of innocence and as a result he felt he should have worked harder to maintain it. It did not occur to him that Link was simply stronger than he was, and able to foster compassion in the midst of unimaginable suffering. Ganondorf hardened quickly; his conscience had been battered into submission long ago. He could not dream of such endurance, facing inhumanities day after day and still being open to grief.

What a warrior--what a human--what a god! There seemed to be no end to Link's complexities and paradoxes. He was stronger, he was softer, he was a man and a child, of both broad experience and naiveté. If Ganondorf had, in his furor, examined it--if he allowed himself a glimpse of understanding--how he would have been moved to terror and jealousy... This was the thing he had sought all his life and never found. He had written books to try and manufacture it, he had picked himself apart in a search for it. He remembered feeling it when he was young, but how foregone that was, how distant it was to him now... He could no more restore it than he could raise Gershom from the dead.

* * *

"How many?"

Ganondorf broke from his momentary lull, but did not understand Link's inquiry. The horses were riding hard, and Link's voice was winded, but nonetheless he had gathered enough outrage to continue challenging him.

"How many of them did you kill?"

Ganondorf muttered evasively, "Does it really matter?"

Link clearly thought it did, but had trouble formulating his argument while on horseback.

Ganondorf, being in a better mood than usual, didn't hold it too strongly against him. He only concentrated on his horse and hoped that they were not being followed. Though he doubted the renegade group would risk any more casualties, he could not dismiss the unpleasant thought of being ambushed in their sleep. They would have to take some jagged turns and rough trails if they wanted to be secure.

Link started again, this time sounding somewhat annoyed. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere yet."

"We should be heading north."

"We can't do that right now. Just wait."

"Wait for _what_?"

Ganondorf nudged his ride is another direction, pulling Link's horse along--he tried to translate his scattered thoughts into a reply, but was too flummoxed by the situation to begin explaining himself. He hadn't made his intentions at all clear to the boy; their communication was yet stilted.

They were soon forced to stop. Ganon had exhausted the horses and confused his own sense of direction, so they haphazardly settled in a small clearing. Ganondorf circled the surroundings, and believing he had made a decent search, concluded he had lost any chance of being followed. Still, little had been said between them. Link appeared fatigued and thus occupied himself with resting on the ground, listening carefully to his surroundings. He was satisfied with ignoring Ganon's presence, which at first fit the Gerudo's preferences perfectly--but the silence grew tiresome.

"Well?" he prodded in a sudden confrontation.

"Well what?"

"You aren't wondering why I came back?"

Link looked pained. "Not in particular."

Ganondorf stiffened and their conversation came to an end.

The several hours following this strained exchange were not much more productive. Ganondorf, still experiencing the last of an adrenaline rush and half-crazed with paranoia, took a few more runs through the woods, returning each time expecting to find Link more malleable, only to be rebuffed. He was literally running in circles and there was little he could do to break the cycle.

They had said nothing of real substance to each other in quite some time, and he was beginning to feel the effect of it. He lost his grasp of Link's thoughts and feelings. Nothing the boy said or did made any sense to him. Why was he sitting there? Where was his suspicion, his anger? Everything he expected was not there. Link had almost become something of a real person to him, with a personality and spectrum of emotions--but now that was gone, replaced by a silent lump of passivity. He could have torn out his hair in frustration.

Ganondorf needed patience--patience that he did not have. His only solution was to force themselves back into motion.

* * *

After traveling in relative peace all day, their thoughts turned to more refined things. Lingering, thick thoughts of blood and dust started to at last give way, and Ganondorf found himself, for the first time that day, able to appreciate his surroundings.

They settled for the night, and as the shadows grew longer and the last of the day's light faded away, Ganondorf gave the forest a long look. What season was it now? It felt so strange not to know, but after so many years, his grasp on the yearly cycle had weakened. It was summer, but the leaves and wind offered promise. At first he did not understand the promise, but time brought those ancient memories back to him: the air was chilled, tasted like earth, and bode the end. Summer would come to a close, and something else would take its place. He thought it an omen of something, but he could determine nothing more.

Link did not waste time on such sentiments. He moved restlessly, as though disturbed, and started on various, mundane tasks: first he arranged his belongings along the ground, touching and memorizing his itinerary. Then he began to pace in a circle, grasping a sense of place, and once he found the center of their camp, he proceeded to arrange stones in a small ring. By the time he started to collect wood, Ganondorf had been intently observing him for some time. It humored him at first—Link carried out these simple acts in complete silence, and in completely roundabout ways. Ganondorf had started guessing what his acts were trying to accomplish, as if it were a game.

Link was adapted to this sort of existence. It looked so tedious, now that Ganon paid attention to it. Living without something as central as sight must be a cumbersome affair, he thought (in a rather understated manner). What was obvious to him through his eyes, Link could not know and had to feel with his hands and feet. But it was an advantage too, he supposed, since the boy had the distinct privilege of _touching_ the obvious. Few could or would do such a thing, for most are content with merely eying it at a distance, but the boy _knew_ it with more certainty. One's eyes could be fooled, but Link held the obvious in the palms of his hands, and treaded on it without hesitation. This was a man, Ganondorf thought absently as he watched a blind Hylian stumble about in the woods, who could never be conned.

The foolishness of his musings never truly occurred to him and were inevitably interrupted.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Link sputtered quite suddenly. "You're just standing there like an idiot."

He privately denied that there was anything 'idiotic' in standing about, but knew Link valued action above all else.

-

Link had gone to water the horses some time ago; he had also called Ganon's name twice.

Ganondorf had no reason to hurry. Instead of granting Link his presence, he dawdled and hoped fervently that his assistance was not really needed. Besides, he had been enjoying a somewhat relaxing episode in starting the fire, and he was quite reluctant to give up his newfound luxury.

Link's final call at last managed to pull him away from his preoccupation. He grumbled that it 'had better be important.'

Mere moments after stepping out into the darkness, the trouble became clear to him.

By the time he arrived, the scene was in clear disarray. Link had his sword drawn and was doing his best to approach his panicked horse. The other horse was nowhere to be seen.

Ganondorf overcame his confusion and, seeing Link struggling in his attempt to recover his horse, began to give him some advice. "Maybe if you put away your sword, it might--"

Link, hearing his voice, gave him no chance to condescend. "So you're here finally! Good thing, too—seeing as _the problem has already been taken care of_. You can go back to twiddling your thumbs or whatever it was that was keeping you."

Ganondorf overlooked the obvious venom to the boy's tone. "What the hell happened?"

"An _animal_, Ganondorf."

"For goddesses' sake," Ganondorf muttered coarsely. He had expected something somewhat more consequential to cause such a mess. "Why couldn't you deal with it yourself? Calling my name over that--"

"I _did_ deal with it! I killed it!"

Ganondorf took another glance around the landscape and found that, indeed, there was a dead animal downstream. The darkness prevented him from identifying it exactly.

"--And it so happened that, as I dealt with it, one of the horses ran off--"

Ganondorf listened to him with surprising calculation, then, without saying a word, he strode past Link, took hold the remaining horse, and handed the nervous steed back to Link. He said, in a brief, informative manner, "It helps if you can look into its face." He paused, then said decisively, "I'll get the other horse."

Link looked ready to say something, but swallowed his words at the last moment.

-

Ganondorf's mind was allowed some relief; somehow, Link's anger had, as of late, posed less of a threat and instead gave him a measure of ease. He was not sure of the reasons behind this, but nonetheless, knowing that Link was still _capable_ of rage comforted him.

The woods were colder to trail through than he expected. The horse had apparently gone quite astray—he walked for nearly twenty minutes and managed to find little trace of it, and his hands were beginning to go numb from the chill. He muttered aloud, stuffed them into his pockets, and watched as the fog rolled in.

The air became thick, while the branches, leaves, and earth swelled with moisture. His skin was prickled with cold sweat and the beading vapors, and he realized that the place felt familiar.

No... It was the atmosphere; by then he knew it by heart.

_Lethe_.

Unlike his previous encounters, he would not be caught unprepared. In fact, the moment he recognized that Lethe was approaching, he felt more confident than ever before.

"You can cut the theatrics," he said aloud into the fog. "I know you want to talk to me, so come on out."

His voice, as though it were a burst of wind, caused the environment to suddenly warp. The fog scattered and everything subsequently turned to darkness.

**You've gotten used to this quickly**_**.**_

A figure blinked in the shadows, at first looking quite human, but collapsing onto four legs as it drew closer.

**There isn't any fear in you this time**.

Ganondorf said nothing in response, and his curiosity was piqued when he found Lethe was showing itself as some sort of animal. The nimble and at first indistinct creature scurried along the ground, its milky eyes piercing his gaze.

**You've adapted much faster than the others.**

The beast began to betray its fox-like physique and sat a few yards from his feet. Ganondorf was again emboldened enough to speak. "'Others'?"

**Don't think you're the only one I've spoken to... Do you like this form? Do you recognize it?**

For a moment he could only think sourly—he had never encountered a being so persistently obsessed with its appearance. But Lethe sensed his resistance and made a noise almost like a human laugh. The bubbly, earthy sound brought back memories of the desert; it startled him some to hear such a natural cry.

He could see it clearly then: that dusty gray pelt, narrow snout, and penetratingly shy gaze would be familiar to anyone from his land.

**I could not help myself**, Lethe confessed wryly. **I read all of the Gerudo legends as they were in your mind, ****and, as you see... The Coyote, it was the prankster in all the stories, wasn't it? Did you identify with him when you were young...?**

As interesting as analyzing Gerudo mythology might have been, Ganondorf had no intentions of engaging it. The purpose Lethe had in meeting with him had yet to be articulated. The being was stalling.

**...Perhaps not. You were more enraptured with the Scorpion, vengeful and deadly as he was... No matter. I hope you understand me as Coyote; not as a villain, but as a creature of wit and mischief... A noble beast, but one that is carried away at times by his own glee in troublemaking--**

Ganondorf interrupted with profound skepticism. "--What, is this your way of apologizing?"

**Apologize? You have misunderstood me completely. I am merely explaining myself. Do you feel wronged, in need of an apology?**

"No," he interjected tersely. He grappled for words, not so much out of nervousness than out of uncertainty. Nothing about this encounter felt right. "It is only that... You're not acting naturally. I expected--"

**Why do you 'expect'?**

Ganondorf did not understand the question, so he promptly ignored it. Its aloof nature was beginning to frustrate him. "You did not come to me like this last time. In fact, we left off rather poorly."

The coyote gave a whining sigh, dictating Lethe's apathy. **Did it so upset you?**

"You threatened to _kill me_."

**Not out of malice.**

"Oh, good!" Ganon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That makes it _all better_, doesn't it?"

**I understand this is not the journey you wished to make, but I assure you your feelings are irrelevant**, Lethe chimed in monotone. **You will appreciate the ends, even if the means are complex or undesirable.**

"And what _are _those ends, if you don't mind me asking?"

Lethe made a thoughtful sound, and the beast tensed for a moment, as if about to attack, but it yielded to a sudden calm. After long calculation, it opened its mouth and explained itself carefully, giving a strong impression that it was saying as little as possible.

**You see, in the grand scheme of things, we are very much alike. We both possess great power; we both had a time of unmitigated success, only to have our kingdoms collapse and our powers locked away. My time was many centuries ago, and I am currently limited in many ways, but now I can at last unlock the full extent of my abilities.**

The vagueness of this answer was unsettling, but Ganondorf doubted he would be able to encourage much more elaboration. "How do you plan to do that with Link?"

**His Triforce, of course.**

Ganondorf guffawed at its obvious oversight. "He does not _have_ the Triforce anymore."

**This is a problem, but it is quite easily mended. His Triforce is wandering now, but it will find its way home.**

Ganondorf was stunned by this new information. "He's going to recover?"

**That is not my concern, but yes, that is a possible outcome.**

"And what do you intend to do with me?"

**Mostly the same as I intend with the boy.**

"You're not going to use my Triforce," he contradicted flatly. "I will not allow it."

**I'm only going to borrow it. Besides, you don't have much choice in the matter. Don't think that you won't be rewarded, though.**

"What honor will I receive? The privilege of being your pet?"

Lethe chuckled. **You needn't be so cynical. While you are replaceable, that does not mean I don't have a s**_**pecial**_** interest in you.**

Ganondorf resisted the urge to cringe. "Then your reward will be...?"

**I have a number of powers, and once they are unleashed in full, I will have more capability to serve you... But as a first gift to you, I will protect you from your deepest fears, whatever they may be.**

The Gerudo wasn't sure how to respond to such an unconventional offer. On an impulse, he would have claimed he had nothing to be protected from, though he carried a suspicion that Lethe was referring to something specific. Ganondorf was inclined to ask more, but Lethe sensed his ready confusion and interrupted him.

**But there's little time to discuss this now—I have spent too much energy as it is. Here is your quest. Link will lead you to his home, but you will need to bring him to me some distance farther. You will follow my river into the mountains, and there will be a place for you in a city there. That is where I will truly meet you. As my strength allows, I will give you further instructions, but for now, following the boy will serve you nicely.**

"That's it, then?"

**I trust this is simple enough for you to accomplish.**

Indeed it was—it was disconcertingly simple, aside from a few precise troubles. Ganondorf felt strangely desperate, sensing that this was the end of their encounter and he would have no more chances to glean information from it. He looked into the coyote's eyes, ignoring its haunted look. "Seems easy enough, but--"

The animal stood on its hind legs and craned its neck curiously. **But what?**

Ganondorf's mind was racing, but he finally managed to ask, "When I bring him to you... Are you going to kill him?"

**Why does that matter? **Lethe inquired carefully, as if sensing something askew.

"Because I want to do it."

* * *

Ganondorf returned with the horse and a bleeding wound at his side. At first he was considerably alarmed by the flow of blood, but he realized it was merely the stab wound he had received earlier that day. In the strain of his walk, it seemed, his injury had opened again with fresh pain to accompany it.

He pondered asking Link for a healing spell, but under the circumstances, he didn't feel comfortable doing so. Link didn't look to be in a helpful mood anyhow—he fully ignored Ganon upon his arrival and was ready to sleep.

It didn't matter. The less he had to interact with the boy, the better.

The ache was manageable all the same, especially once he laid on his back and was still. Once he settled, though, he was effectually paralyzed; as much as turning his head made the pain redouble. Fortunately, his responsibilities had ended for the night, so he felt no loss in staring up into the sky for the next few hours.

His peripheral vision was meanwhile hounded with flickering shadows and the gaping mouth of a starving coyote. He shifted his arm in annoyance, hoping to shoo the creature away, but as swiftly as it disappeared from sight, it would return with the voracity of a fever. He awoke in the night again and again, each time feeling more sure that it was set on him... Somewhere between his lapses he saw it crouching in the darkness, eyes alight and blood on its lips.

_Devouring him? No, licking his wound—a dog licking his wound, like he was some kind of beggar._

It moaned with hunger, whined, pawed and scratched at his arms, paced with impatience... It chewed, lapped and tasted as if sizing up a meal.

His blood dripped from its muzzle and it at last left him in peace, groaning as it perished from want of food.

Goddesses, was he dreaming, or just seeing things? He was losing his mind, wasn't he? Then he would just have to be careful...

* * *

Ganondorf grumbled freely. It didn't matter to those who stood nearby--they couldn't hear him over the downpour of rain. He grudgingly led the horses down the slick, drowning roads, struggling to keep them from slipping. Though he was sure Link knew the area, he could not depend on his advice. The rain made Link deaf and confused, so Ganon had to navigate the strange town mostly on his own.

They had traveled for several days,and they were ready to find a place to take shelter and eat, but even with the best of his efforts, Ganondorf found neither shelter nor food. When he managed to communicate the frustration of his search, Link assured him he was looking in the wrong places. Link had visited this place before; he knew it to be a humble, prosperous town not far from where he lived, and a place always welcome to visitors.

Ganondorf gave the city an incredulous gaze. From what he could see through the thick clouds of mist and rain, there was little evidence of prosperity. At a time when people ought to be securely sheltered, there were still a number of stranded people on the road, many of them women and children. The buildings which materialized along the horizon were bleak and weary. He could almost hear the walls sigh under the strain of the population's needs.

The people were abundant but strangely elusive when he wanted to ask questions.

-

Cold, exhausted, and discouraged, Ganondorf led them in a circle for nearly an hour before he stumbled across an inn. Stirred by a sudden confidence and sense of relief, he stepped down from his horse and pounded on the door.

It opened with much more hesitation than he had expected. A bright stream of light and the sound of rancor leaked through the opening door, and before he could pry it further, he heard a stern voice from inside. "Go away."

Ganondorf was undeterred. "We need a room. We've been traveling all day--"

The door creaked, and the face of the disgruntled innkeeper appeared. The man examined them for a moment, and his tone took a shift for the apologetic. "You're travelers?"

"We just arrived, yes," Ganondorf impatiently reiterated.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we've had our share of them lately." The innkeeper nervously tapped his fingers along the door. "I'm full up."

Without warning, Link approached and attempted to intervene. "Sir, we happen to be a bit desperate. You haven't anything at all? Floorspace?"

"I'm afraid everyone's about as desperate, but just happened to get here before you. If I had anything I'd let you have it..."

Ganondorf, thoroughly defeated, turned and stepped down. Link apparently still doubted the innkeeper, and remained where he was, intent on receiving _something_.

"W-wait, look--" the man at last blurted, before Ganondorf mounted his horse. "The inns are all full, as far as I know... But if you really need someplace, there's always the shelter... There's an abandoned building down the road—people spend the night there quite a lot. It's nothing fancy, but if you can manage to get in, it's a roof over your heads."

This didn't sound promising at all, but Link, in good nature, bowed and thanked him for the advice. The innkeeper pointed them the right way and shrugged helplessly before shutting the door.

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

-

Link was far more enthused about the proposition than Ganondorf was, but Ganon was new to being desperate.

"Perhaps we ought to take another look around town," the Gerudo murmured upon seeing a crowd in the direction indicated.

"He said there probably wasn't anything else."

"_Probably_." Ganondorf turned to him, but could see Link was not convinced. He decided to elaborate. "_Probably_, meaning, _possibly..._ Meaning he _isn't certain_."

But as he was speaking, Link started to dismount.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Challenge the statistics if you like," Link explained calmly, "but I'm done wandering for today. It's in this direction, then, is it?"

It took a moment for Ganondorf to take in what was happening, and once he did, he fumbled. Realizing too late that Link was not genuinely interested in his answer, he muttered as he tried to justify his sudden lost interest in the 'statistics.' "It's—yes, it--" Ganondorf looked over his shoulder witheringly and hoped he was not forsaking a better opportunity. He pushed himself forward, wrestling responsibility from Link's hands in a more aggressive than helpful manner. "--This way."

-

Link adapted quickly to what they encountered inside of the building; Ganondorf, unused to squalor in general, was not interested in adapting. He took one step inside and was immediately taken aback. The stench, dear gods, the _stench—_it was a smell that could only be summed up as the stench of _human_. Link didn't seem wavered by it, but Ganondorf was so nauseated that he was ready to abandon the plan altogether.

Yet he was goaded on by Link's example, so he briefly wheezed and pressed on. There were no lights, but in a brief flash of lightning from the doorway, he spotted dozens of people lying on the floor. He shuffled through the darkness, felt sleeping bodies against his feet, and cursed his own existence. Nearly overcome with disgust, he finally found the stomach to step over the numbers of people in search for their own space.

The darkness proved too impenetrable to make anything out. As a last resort, he used some of his spare energy to cast a light spell, and he found to his (minor) disappointment that there was literally no place for them. He was momentarily overjoyed that their business there was finished, though he was equally stunned by the sheer number of people packed in the room.

The light glinted from his hands and disturbed a few who slept. Groans shook beneath his feet and his skin started to crawl.

He spun around and found Link searching as well. Armed with a reasonable excuse, he spoke in an attempt to sound collected and calm, though his words curdled and sounded more desperate than he had intended. "There's no space here. We need to leave."

Link's head turned in response to his voice, his expression pensive. "Leave to _where_, exactly?"

Ganondorf nearly shouted, but caught himself and kept his tenor at a harsh whisper. "How should I know?!"

"Then what are we going to do?" the boy suddenly accused, as if this were somehow his fault. "Sleep in the street?"

"I told you I don't know! But there simply isn't--"

The light flashed right past Link's unflinching gaze and onto the opposite wall. There, a strange shadow caught Ganon's eye. He leaned hard to his right and could see something.

"--Wait. I think I see--"

He stumbled over a few more people, and as the shadows parted before him, he found what he hadn't noticed before.

"There's another floor."

-

As they ascended the staircase, the heat grew to unbearable levels. Ganondorf could hear the steady dripping of water through the ceiling above them, and was disappointed to find that instead of cooling the room down, it made the air thick with hot moisture.

But there was room.

They settled without a word. In another corner, a lantern flickered among a group of murmuring gamblers, men who were more interested in their dice than the new arrivals. The room was eerily quiet, save for the rumbling beyond the walls and the relentless howl of the wind.

Ganondorf could not remember much—how well he managed to lay on the floor, how long he lay there before falling asleep. He did know that he suffered long hours and had, in some desperation, opened his tunic for easier breathing. With more privacy he could have made himself much more comfortable...

Time passed, but it was impossible to tell how long. In the midst of his agony, he felt there was something distinctly wrong, and he looked at each side to find Link had disappeared. At first he didn't think twice about it, but he recalled Link's declaration that he was done "wandering" for the night and was curious about what caused him to change his mind. He forced himself upward, disoriented but determined not to be left behind.

The gamblers from the other side of the room had mostly retired, but a few remained and were watching him carefully. He had to bite back his desire to confront them; he loathed being watched.

One hissed and whispered at him and he imagined that the man was taunting him. He ignored him without a thought, so whatever was spoken was wasted.

Ganondorf stormed out of the building, and although stumbling over sleeping refugees lacked a certain grace, he felt a restoration of pride in freeing himself from the stuffy interior. He stood a bit shell-shocked in the doorway, a relieving rush of air and water passing over his face. He was miserable and wet, but the dark fog no longer seemed to be such an intimidating foe.

After standing for some time, he found that not one, but _both _of the horses had gone missing. He was not surprised at all—he hardly expected the populace to have any respect for their property. Frankly, he knew it was going to happen and had done little to prevent it.

The question that remained, however, was _where had Link gone_? It wasn't important enough for Link to wake him, but was pressing enough to require his presence somewhere else. He puzzled over it and then realized that the gamblers probably had known from the beginning, and it was likely that the one whispering at him was giving him a suggestion.

He fretted, cursed himself for being so restless. It wasn't as if he could simply turn around, crawl back through the building, and interrogate them. He grew more desperate for a lead by the minute, and strained his eyes through the darkness for any possible witnesses. Not surprisingly, there was no one casually about at that hour.

Yet there was no sense in staying where he was.

-

It occurred to him that he was being followed, and while he wasn't sure of the culprit, he made certain that he would be prepared for anything. He paid no attention to the lurking figure, hoping it would grow bored of him and move on.

To his genuine surprise, as soon as he stopped to re-examine the path he had taken, the stranger boldly approached him and announced his presence. "Sir?"

Ganondorf turned noncommittally in response to see a dark-skinned, lanky young man standing eagerly behind him.

"Are you looking for your friend?"

He wasn't sure how to answer, so he said, "I _am_ looking for someone, yes."

Ganondorf didn't care for the glint he saw in the man's eyes as he spoke. "You know," the stranger began, "I saw you both as you arrived, and it was by chance that I found him later wandering about outside the sick beds. He wasn't feeling well at all, and the doctor was simply too busy for him. He's at my place now."

Ganondorf stared in well-grounded skepticism.

"We talked and he had me come back to look for you..."

He highly suspected some sort of trap. Link hadn't given him any reason to believe he was falling ill, and there was no telling where this person was about to lead him. But somehow, after examining the man, Ganondorf felt less inclined to theorize conspiracy. This man was too young, too weak to be intimidating; and furthermore, there was a look in his face that made him look too gentle and dumb to be conniving. Of course, looks could deceive, but spending the night in a warm home was sounding better by the minute.

Ganondorf was slack-jawed slightly, soaked to the bone, too exhausted and bewildered by this new information to truly object.

The stranger cracked a nervous grin and proffered, "Let's get out of this rain, huh?"

-

It was not a far trip, but it weighed on him; the stranger had attempted several times to make conversation, and he could only muster one-word responses. Even when they arrived at the man's home, and he ducked under the low doorway to descend a deep, poorly-lit stairway, the stranger peppered him with questions and anecdotes.

The ceiling was low, and the walls were narrow. He was feeling distinctly closed in...

"Watch your head."

With this warning, he knocked his forehead into something looming above him. Thankfully, it made no discernible sound above the creaking footsteps, so he concealed his embarrassment in the shadows. He squinted, adjusted his eyesight to the soft firelight at the heart of the room below. The musky scent of the walls and floors betrayed the many visitors to this place. It was a basement with a number of loyalties; it whispered of countless legacies, and smelled of rice and spiced rum.

Link was there, sitting on the floor near the furnace. A young woman, possibly a relative of the stranger, tended to him, but noticed as Ganondorf entered and stood to her feet.

"Are you the one he sent for?"

Before he, or the man who led him, could answer, she continued.

"You must dry off. Let me take your cloak, it's soaking wet..."

Without responding, he unfastened his hood, and she wrestled the dripping heap of cloth from his shoulders. She spoke little and required no talk from him, and for this he was thankful.

It did not take long for the two strangers to realize they ought to leave the room. Their duties satisfied, they quietly disappeared into a hallway.

Ganondorf adjusted his clothing fretfully and stared at the Hylian, puzzling over his condition before noticing something quite wrong with his leg. His calf was bound with white cloth, and in the firelight he could see the glisten of blood. He said, on impulse, "You're hurt."

Link's head lifted and tilted in his direction, face gleaming with sickly sweat. "Yes."

Ganondorf struggled to articulate his exact concern. It was a minor injury from what he could tell, but surely it was connected to the "illness" he had been told about? "When did _that_ happen?" he inquired, now convinced a robbery had taken place.

"I didn't tell you."

Ganondorf went silent.

"That animal, those days ago—it wasn't much, and I thought I had taken care of it properly, but apparently not."

Ganondorf scrambled to remember the details of that night, but straining his mind did not make anything clearer. He had paid little attention... Goddesses, was he really that distracted, that he didn't notice something so obvious? The boy had probably been walking on a limp the whole trip.

"I just need to sleep it off," Link insisted drowsily. "It isn't bad."

Ganondorf had little interest in Link's general welfare, but was relieved to know that it would not inconvenience them any further. By its very nature, travel invites delays through injury and illness, but Ganondorf could not feel the patience this truth normally brought him—especially since it was not _he_ who suffered. Any possibility of rushing through unpleasantness was welcome. "Then we'll head out tomorrow as planned?"

Their male host had strode back into the room, glancing back and forth as Link spoke uncertainly. "We'll see."

The host, mildly embarrassed for interrupting their conversation, cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. Ganondorf shot him an irritated look. "Yes?"

"I apologize for not tending to you any quicker; many people stay here. I only just realized I haven't even introduced myself." He gave a casual bow. "My name is Samuk, and I own this establishment."

Ganondorf took advantage of the new light and gave this man another examination, and though he now knew a name by which he could call him, he needed to know more. 'Samuk' had been trailing them after all, and clearly had intentions of his own. "Who are you?"

Samuk, having just introduced himself, grasped for words. "I'm a businessman. This is where my employees live--"

"And what 'business' do you have with us?"

Link glowered; he did not care for more needless confrontation.

"You were watching us as we entered the town—you admitted that much to me! How did we catch your eye? Surely we aren't the only people in this city _worthy_ of your charity."

Samuk evaded the question, as though he did not wish to ruin a surprise. "Let me show you to your rooms, and then we can talk."

-

Ganondorf was alone in the small bedroom for several minutes, and every time he was ready to leave and see what was taking the others, he convinced himself to stay put. The candle at his bedside gave only enough light for him to see glimpses of the floor and gold suggestions of his own hands and feet, so his mind had plenty of freedom. He thought, speculated, plotted, agonized over details he must have overlooked...

He heard the door open and he stood his ground. "Ah, hello," Samuk sheepishly greeted, wielding a lantern and surprisingly high spirits. "Do you have everything you need in here?"

"You haven't answered my question from before," Ganondorf snapped impatiently.

His host hesitated, the glass and wire of the lantern clattering quietly in his grip. But the man was not frightened or guilty, as one might be when confessing something rather grave. Samuk made a nervous, cackling laugh under his breath and admitted, "I'm afraid I'm depending on intuition."

Ganondorf had absolutely no idea what was meant by that, so he reserved judgment and waited for him to continue.

"I am not certain, but—I knew it the moment I saw you. It's uncanny... I think there's someone here in this town who _knows_ you."

"That's impossible."

Samuk was startled. "Wh-what makes you say that?"

"Trust me," Ganondorf asserted dryly.

"Well, there isn't any harm in trying, is there?"

_Oh, there very well_ _might be_,Ganon thought to himself, now pondering whether this man was going to prove to be an obstacle. Why, he had the power to deal with obstacles now—it would be quick, too--

"But never mind that now," Samuk assured him hastily, becoming unnerved under Ganondorf's intense, calculating gaze. "Your friend, by the way, is doing alright."

"He isn't my friend."

Samuk went on as though he hadn't heard him. "The wound was pretty bad—I don't see how he walked on it for so long—and it got infected, so that accounts for his fever. He obviously tried to keep it clean, but it wasn't enough; he needed medicine." Ganondorf was more interested in sleep than this man's thinly-veiled accusations, and he was just about to send him away, but Samuk added, "He should recover in several days."

Ganon turned on him immediately. "Several _days_?"

"That's normal," Samuk said slowly, looking at him as if he had gone mad. "He needs time to--"

"We don't have time," Ganondorf spoke flatly. "Doesn't the word 'potion' mean anything to you? Just get one and we'll be on our way."

"I can't recall the last time our city has seen the materials needed to make a potion, and if we _had_ access to potions whenever we wanted, we would _have room_ in our sick beds." Samuk, finished making his point, sighed heavily. "I'm telling you it cannot be helped. In the meanwhile, you should rest as well..."

Ganondorf was in a hopeless trance, and didn't notice that the man had left. Were they really stranded like this? Upon hearing about the mysterious person who "knew" him, he had briefly considered leaving early that next morning—anyone who "knew" him couldn't be good news. But Link was not going to sleep this off overnight, and Link was the key to all of this.

He sat on his bed in the renewed darkness and pushed these new thoughts out of his head. He did not need new worries or curiosities, and he certainly didn't need to start imagining who "knew" him. He did not need friend or associates: all he needed now was a plan.

Sometimes, Link had an advantage that others did not, and when it came to dreams, this was especially true. He could almost always tell if he was awake or in a dream; after all, he was never blind in his dreams, save for a nightmare or two...

With the scent of sulfur and copper still in his nostrils, he stirred from his fretful sleep, saw nothing but darkness, and took in a relieved breath.

Link nearly forgot where he was, but his wandering hands felt the cushion of a mat underneath him and the cool wooden floor at his side. The illness, pertinent as it was, could not steal away his senses: his body boiled with fever; he could hear the murmurs of neighbors behind thin walls, the growls of thunder and the patter of rain; and he could smell the crushed herbs that the woman had helped him bind to his leg. He at first tried to sit up, overwhelmed by the sweat covering his body, but he shook with uncontrollable weakness and fell back onto the mat. In another fit of desperation, he attempted rolling over, but his wounded leg had gone completely numb and would not budge.

When he did manage to move himself, sharp pains shot up and down his leg, and for some time he lay immobile on the floor. At least there, the wood cooled his perspiring skin and his body could breathe.

His leg went numb again, replacing the shock with faint feelings of pins-and-needles in his extremities. Link sighed, knowing that true relief was far from him and he would have to relish these short moments of comparable comfort.

His hearing tuned to his surroundings, and he recognized suddenly that there was a panel of glass somewhere on the far wall—a window. He wished faintly that he could reach it, if only to open it for a moment and let a gust of wind fall over him, just for a brief bite of cold.

But that wall was so, so far away from him; it was fantasy even considering it. He miserably knocked the back of his head into the floor, a resounding thud echoing along the walls.

-

There were few things in life worse than this.

-

His suffering was rudely interrupted.

"Link, we need to--"

Link turned his head erratically toward the invading voice, though he knew well who it was.

"--What _are_ you doing?"

"Trying to get comfortable," Link responded flatly, wiping his brow. After a few moments of silence, he nearly suspected Ganondorf was about to leave, but the door closed and the Gerudo shuffled forward in unusual eagerness.

"Well, never mind that now," Ganondorf muttered to himself. The man drew closer and stood over him. Link could hear his uneasiness once he realized Link was not going to move back onto the mat—Ganondorf had a vague notion that Link _ought_ to be there, but was not about to enforce it. "Say, Link," Ganondorf crooned in his best imitation of a conversational tone, "You wouldn't happen to have a potion anywhere, would you?"

Link snorted. "I already thought of that, and _no_."

Undeterred, Ganondorf leaped to another inquiry. "And how about a healing spell?"

"I haven't had the energy for a spell for days now—what are you going on about?"

"Do you _want_ to spend any more time here?"

Link felt he had at last pinpointed the problem. "If you loathe this city so much, you're welcome to leave on your own."

The reply was more grudging than he thought it would be. "--I--Well—Of course, I _could_."

"Uh-huh." Once he realized Ganondorf had nothing else to qualify his reasoning, his mind went abuzz with suspicion. "But you seem to be in an awful hurry. Is something the matter?"

"It's nothing."

"That bad, huh?"

"Look," Ganondorf huffed with sudden indignation, "I'd rather not waste time here, if we can help it."

The reasoning seemed sound, though not completely honest. Link could feel pain resurfacing, and in the fog of his illness, he rasped, "I think I understand. I know you've simply grown _too fond_ of me—you couldn't _bear_ separating--"

-

Link released a hollow, forced laugh at the thought, and felt some degree of accomplishment when the Gerudo stormed out of the room without reply. He could not imagine what purpose Ganondorf had in trying to push him along—his intentions as a whole were a mystery to him—but mocking him returned to him a sense of authority, an authority he knew he had lost in the midst of everything...

The momentary victory did not spare him his growing suspicions, and he knew that one day, scoffing words could not be the only weapons to depend upon. He was being dragged somehow—carried along, swept away, caught in a current, even though he had the direction and destination perfectly in mind. How could that be? He was approaching the place he intended, wasn't he? There could be no mistake. Ganondorf could lie, he supposed, but he was no fool. If he were going the wrong way, he would know it...

Link was returning to a place he called "home," and the significance of this did not escape him. There were few places in his life worthy of that name, and even among those, there had never been a town so capable of giving him firm ground to stand on. "Home"! He couldn't believe how many years he had lived without one; now that he had one, he understood how desperately he needed it.

He lay back, suffering encroaching on his body, and he faintly recalled the atmosphere of that empty building packed with strangers. They could have suffocated there with those numbers of people, people without homes and almost without souls...

That was how he remembered himself, anyhow, before he had his place in the world. A place is a center, a heart, something akin to a soul.

Then how must Ganondorf feel, his people having been torn from him, his own race having grown weary of his memory? There was no question in Link's mind that Ganondorf had no soul, or had lost it some time ago, but he could not help but wonder if this was a second loss, a second death...

_Second death?_ How many deaths will this man endure before his body is at last reduced to ashes?

His fever drove him to a shudder, a desperate reach for warmth in a cold, desolate place.


	10. deserter

**chapter 10: deserter**

A/N: Oh god what.

Super-super-super late chapter, not sure if any others are forthcoming. Maybe there will be? It all depends how crazy my senior year ends up becoming.

Sorry I'm kind of a jerk who leaves everyone hanging all the time. :[

* * *

The occupants of the city had discussed for many months the wedding that was supposed to take place that day. As soon as people began to stir in anticipation, a few choice grumblers voiced their doubt that it would go as planned. The weather had been miserable for days, and the day was chilly and overcast. The streets were muddied from the rain—this was unacceptable; who would have a wedding in the mud? _Savages, that's who_—people who have lost their pride, their common sense, their connection with the _old way_.

But true to their nature, the couple had insisted that the celebration continue unabated. After all, young love rarely allows itself to be straddled by elders' obsessions with dignity and tradition.

It was for this reason that Ganondorf was not greeted so kindly in the lobby that morning. The gaggle of frustrated old men had spent hours already complaining about this state of affairs, and the presence of a stranger only seemed to aggravate the mood. They stared at him, pondered what on earth more strangers had come into town for... Things were strained already, with so many people crowded into the city in the last few months, and the thought of more people moving in was unsettling.

The only relief they found came in the realization that Ganondorf and Link were anomalies, not evidence of another wave of immigrants, and were not staying long.

Ganondorf knew he was not welcome. He stared into the kitchen for some time, after the smell of food had finally roused him from his sleep, and watched as the woman of the house served a number of hungry tenants. A cool, silverly light shone through the solitary window of the room, evidence of the overcast weather outside.

The men seemed intent on not acknowledging him, but the woman spoke up. "You're up at last."

"Is that breakfast?" he finally asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. It had been days since his last real meal.

"Lunch, actually," she corrected, filling another bowl. "There was no getting you up this morning."

He ignored the derisive snorts and changed the subject. "Where's your husband?"

The woman took to brief confusion, as did the others, but she quickly discerned what he meant. "You must mean my brother... He is not here, but he should be back soon."

Having ascertained what he wanted, he was ready to turn away. He could read her body language, and knew she wanted him to join them for a meal, but hungry though he was, he decided that his fast could continue for a little longer. If nothing else, he would control with whom he kept company and dined... He nodded as politely as he could muster, and retreated into the hallway once more.

He could hear faint complaints follow him, all-too-familiar murmurs of longing for a time that never existed save for in their nostalgic imaginations. "What's the matter with that one?"

"--Leave him be, his friend--"

"--Damned visitors come through here and stare at us as though we were--"

"_Animals_, that's what they are, dancing in the streets like that."

As it turned out, Ganondorf was not the only one who was impatient to leave. He stopped by Link's room, intending only to take an impulsive, brief glance at what he assumed would be a body at rest. But true to his character, Link had refused to stay still. He found him sitting up on the floor, restlessly kneading his leg in a strangely frustrated manner.

"You're up."

Link stopped what he was doing and sighed. "My leg's gone numb—it's been that way since last night. It wouldn't be so bad, if only it would _hurt_..."

Ganondorf was still uncertain that their banter was going to become a conversation, so he edged back toward the doorway. "As tempting as it is, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help."

"Ganondorf."

"Yes?"

Link's head tilted slightly, and he spoke with soft deliberation. "I would like to know what you are doing today."

"There is supposed to be someone who 'knows' me, somewhere in this city. Samuk is intent on reintroducing us..."

Link seemed to ponder on it, and made an incredulous noise. Ganon snorted in amusement. "Yes, my thoughts exactly."

"Well, when it's over, don't come crying to me."

Ganondorf did not know what he meant.

"Please; I know you well enough by now. The moment things go wrong, you're going to come to me in hopes of whining about it. So I'm asking now that you refrain from dragging me into it—whatever 'it' is."

Ganondorf weakly retorted, "I hardly think it will come to that."

"...Of course not," Link murmured knowingly. He turned on his side, as if to end the conversation, though he did call out to him as he left. "Do have a good time. I'd hate to see you in a bad mood."

* * *

Ganondorf had privately hoped Samuk might forget about the ordeal, but his lofty hope was dashed upon Samuk's return. The man intercepted him at the doorway to his room, and apparently assumed Ganondorf was about to take up his things in preparation for their trip.

"Do you wish to eat something before we go?"

Ganondorf's hand fell still on the doorknob and he said nothing. Samuk fidgeted with concern.

"My sister said you would not eat."

"I will eat later," Ganondorf replied curtly.

"It does not matter. No doubt we will eat there..."

The door swung open; Ganondorf entered the room and attempted to shut the door behind him, but Samuk swiftly held it ajar. "Um... Sir, is this a matter of nerves?"

Ganondorf huffed and grabbed his cloak, again refusing to answer.

"If this is so distressing for you, then by all means you should stay here. I don't want you under the impression that this is somehow _required _of you."

"Oh, but isn't it?" he snidely growled, albeit under his breath.

Samuk, of course, did not understand the deeply-rooted suspicions at work, so he could only scratch his head and wonder if there wasn't a secret to making sense of foreigners like this one. Samuk thought, briefly, that this was the stranger's means of dealing with the stress of bearing the illness of his partner, but the two did not share the sort of warmth that would merit one of them acting so bizarrely.

Ganondorf himself was not so sure. His night had been spent futilely trying to piece together a plan for getting both of them out of the city, and as a result his mind was a bleary mess and his decisions all followed impulse.

He just _needed _to know who this 'person' was; it felt crucial to him, as though he were about to put a piece of himself back into place.

"You don't need to bring much—we're not traveling far."

With a final grunt of resignation, he threw his things down and declared without a hint of trepidation, "Then let's go."

Ganondorf was not prepared for the level of noise and passion that littered the town's muddied streets. The somber and ceremonial stage of the marriage had finished some hours ago, leaving only the matter of celebration, and the people of this town had apparently waited long for a chance to celebrate something.

People were steep in dirt, alcohol, and cheer. Dirty limericks and cynical love songs had become the larger theme of the parade, as they usually did once the guests yield to the effects of their drinking.

Oh love, love,

wayward, gluttonous thing!

It drinks our wine

and eats our rice

like an unwelcome guest.

Yet Ganondorf was not curious about any of the details of the wedding, despite Samuk's frequent prodding. It baffled him why Samuk thought he _would_ be interested about the couple, the wedding plans, or how many people showed up; at best, he took it as a sign of how desperate things had become. To attend a stranger's reception seemed to him odd, yet most of the people drinking in the streets didn't know who was getting married, or the circumstances of the arrangement.

Any excuse to get drunk, he supposed.

Samuk moved with swiftness, a trait Ganondorf did not share. So while the nimbler man darted and dodged through the crowds, Ganon had to bicker and push aside those who stood in his way, frequently rejecting offers of food and drink. He nearly lost track of Samuk several times, and once his frustration compounded with his overall mental state, he found himself grabbing at random passersby, often mistaking the backs of their heads for his elusive partner.

Yet finally Samuk seemed to have accomplished this task, and Ganondorf could see his nowhere. Throngs of people shoved past him--he realized that he had stumbled into a bazaar of sorts, and without Samuk to guide him, he found himself casually browsing the stands. It wasn't as if he had the money to purchase anything, but slowly it became a better alternative to him than chasing after a man he barely knew.

Shops hummed with activity, though money rarely exchanged hands in this place. Most of the dwellers were counting on shopkeepers to give gifts in honor of the reception, and with the wine flowing as it was, the shopkeepers were strangely willing.

Ganondorf was not terribly interested in this aspect, though it didn't escape him--he preferred to eye merchandise and ponder its true value. Most of it was, unsurprisingly, overpriced junk, and wouldn't even be worth slipping into his pocket. Fake gemstones, lead coated with silver being passed off as jewelry, charms created out of poorly-chiseled wood, and of course a variety of flimsy blankets and rugs were all normal fare and covered the stands in a sad attempt at imitating the decadence of wealth. If the products were actually worth anything, the displays might have been impressive--but all in all, they were merely colorful and glitzy, easily drawing in the untrained eye, but striking anyone with taste as gaudy and useless.

He moved on to the food-stands, realizing just how hungry he was after passing up breakfast. He approached the stacks of fruit and bread without fully understanding his own intentions; he might steal something, though at this point it didn't seem desirable. It felt miserable, thinking about stealing out of desperation. To steal out of talent was something to be celebrated, surely--but thieving only because of an empty wallet felt disgusting somehow. As if he were a beggar, clawing bread crumbs from the ground...

His hungry thoughts turned suddenly, however, when he noticed something to his right. He looked, thought his eyes must be deceiving him, then furiously realized that they were not. Before him, not ten yards away, a merchant was proudly standing alongside several horses, presumably selling them, and among that number, he saw, quite distinctly, the two horses that had vanished the night before. Suddenly his thoughts of thievery turned indignant.

He stormed over, ignored the merchant's calm, innocent demeanor. "Where did you get those horses?" he demanded, pointing at the two.

The merchant looked puzzled. "Where did I get them? Where do you think I got them?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he seethed. "When did you find them?"

"'Find' them? They were sold to me," the merchant responded flatly, sensing an oncoming accusation.

"That's interesting, because they're mine."

The merchant scoffed, and motioned his hand as if to shoo him away.

"Look at them! Isn't it strange that last night, two horses of mine--horses that look exactly like those--would disappear, and today they are being sold back to me here?"

"It's not my concern that you can't keep track of your property. People come here all the time, telling me 'this is mine' and 'that was stolen from me'--some other man tried to pull this trick on me earlier--don't bother me with your nonsense."

Ganon snorted in frank disbelief, and ignoring the merchant's increasing anger, he pushed himself past the stand, marched over to the two horses, and began to untie them. The merchant began to screech of being robbed, hurling insults at him and calling for guards. But instead of authorities, a crowd of gawking onlookers, interested in what they thought must be a rising fight, gathered and wondered aloud what the commotion was about.

"You cheap bastard!" the merchant howled, assaulting Ganon with kicks and spitting, a remarkably brave feat for the small man. "You think you can rip me off? Why should you get my merchandise for free, eh?"

Ganondorf effortlessly pushed the man to the ground, but the man's ego did not easily bruise; the man leaped back onto his feet to continue the defense of his property.

Yet the noble and misguided effort was interrupted, though not by Ganon's hands.

"What the devil is going on here?"

The merchant scrambled for composure and Ganon turned nonchalantly to the intruder.

The man was grizzled and stout in appearance, though at first glance these characteristics seemed to be compensation for short stature. He was shorter and leaner than most of the people in the crowd, but he still carried an influence over others that was obviously one of reputation. His hair and complexion were dark and oily, and he covered one eye with a patch, contributing to what Ganondorf increasingly suspected was a theatrical, but untrue, toughness.

He stalked over to them, thinking he was about to dispel a conflict, when with one look at Ganondorf, his expression turned to suspicion and nervousness. Ganondorf assumed it was his own standing at work—the man wouldn't have stood a chance in a fight—but he soon realized that this peculiar character was looking at him as if he vaguely _recognized _him.

The merchant was quick to cut in with his complaint. "L-lord Rais, this man is trying to rob me!"

'Lord Rais,' for a moment, didn't seem to have heard him. He muttered something under his breath, and still stared at Ganondorf.

"He is taking those two horses from me, all on account of some story--"

Rais finally broke his glance and regarded the horses. He spoke immediately, and with a naturally penetrating accent that Ganondorf could not place. "Where did you get them?"

"--Sir?"

"I want to know who you bought them from," Rais repeated a bit impatiently.

"I don't know the man's name."

"_Ya kalb—_so you buy from strangers who come to you with obviously stolen property--? If a beggar came to you offering golden plates with my _name on them_ you would still buy them in hopes of selling them back to me. And probably at twice the price. Swindling _baboon_."

Ganondorf had ceased paying any attention to the fight, instead continuing to recover his property. He had untied the two and was checked the saddles and pouches, to see if everything was in check. To his genuine shock, nothing instead the pouches had been disturbed.

"These _are_ your horses, right?" Rais queried somewhat jokingly. "I'd hate to have done that without reason."

Ganondorf, unnerved by the man's friendliness, did not turn to thank him. "I must be going."

"You're a no-nonsense type, I understand." Though Ganon didn't see it, Rais was thinkingly deeply, smoothing his fingers across his stubbled chin. "--Say, that's uncanny."

'Uncanny'? Hadn't Samuk used that same word the other night? What on earth was going on here? His teeth clenched. "What's uncanny?"

Rais laughed nervously. "Ah—_hmm—_Nothing, but, say, where are you from?"

Ganondorf pulled the horses forward and was ready to leave, so he gave a noncommittal answer. "Far away."

"Ha! That's where everyone's from around here. What did you say your name was?"

Ganondorf decided it was then he ought to pull away and look for Samuk. He did not need a strange little man pestering him about his background. He regarded the man with a swift, uninterested grunt, and began to push aside the onlookers in his way.

"My lady--"

"Madam!"

Suddenly a chorus of voices rose in the midst of gossip. Even Lord Rais had his attention redirected, and before Ganondorf knew it, all eyes had moved.

"Molly!" Rais chided suddenly. "I told you, you shouldn't be--"

Ganondorf hadn't meant to turn his head. Upon thinking about it, he was certain it had been a mistake, triggered by a change in the wind, or a sudden noise—but in the end he turned, and his eyes fell on someone he would never imagined he would see.

"I'm sorry," a female voice interjected, although her tone did not seem apologetic. "But it gets a bit boring in the carriage, watching you carry on like this."

"I wasn't—"

Ganondorf's head pounded. What should he do? He could only think of trying to press through the crowd as quickly as possible, but being of his stature and appearance guaranteed he would be spotted. He numbly searched his collar for the hood of his cloak, so he could at least cover his hair, but his fingers slipped and it was already too late.

"Oh my goddesses."

His back turned, he could only listen to her come to grips with the very realization he faced. Rais was panicking. "What is it? Molly?"

The crowd was beginning to dissipate; their interests were no longer involved. All that remained as they moved away were these three, and with regrettable swiftness, the matter fell into place. Rais had his fears confirmed, and Molly approached Ganondorf, mouth agape.

"You—You know him?"

Ganondorf struggled to compose himself, but inwardly mocked the question. '_As if it were mystery by now!' _He finally let himself turn to her and take everything in. His face remained rigid and uncompromising, but he was clearly dazed.

She didn't look much different to him, aside from the pompous dress and the swollen belly. Her hair still glinted with bronze tint, and she still had those eyes filled with frivolous dreams.

Her brow furrowed; she looked torn between relief and fear. "It's really you."

It was then that the dark face of Samuk emerged from the crowd, and against nearly all of his instincts, Ganondorf was glad for it. Anything to cut the tension, distract the senses.

It was clear that this was the encounter Samuk had arranged, and he seemed tickled that it had happened without him.

"Was I right?"

Ganondorf turned his back on them once more, and muttered somewhat unhappily, "Were you _right_?"

"You had to have—"

"--It was uncanny."

* * *

The walk to the couple's home was a nervous one, but thankfully they had gone ahead, leaving him with the simple matter of keeping Samuk entertained. Samuk was so high-strung by now that he need only answer the questions he rattled off one at a time.

"And so, how did you know her?"

Ganondorf squinted. The early afternoon light plastered across the crowds, glinting off pottery, glass, bright robes, jewels. Yet all he had to do was follow the small flicker of mahogany, swimming against a current of people. The colors hurt his head, made him think of days that had passed decades ago, mere faint memories. "I was never meant to have friends. It was not how things were done. But she was allowed, not as a friend, but... A few years older than me, she took part in raising me."

He was amazed by how comfortable he was in speaking, but when he saw Samuk's expression, he was reminded of the fact that this man was a total stranger, and hardly a liability.

"Oh, a nanny?"

_A nanny_.A part of him shuddered, but it couldn't be helped. "No, she was more--" _More what? _To be honest, he did not have any concept of what she was. Their relationship, as far as he could remember, was an emotionally removed one, with, at times, bitterness and grudges. "--Meant to keep me out of trouble."

Even Samuk could hear in Ganondorf's voice that it had not worked. He laughed, no doubt recalling his own youthful rebellions, but asked nothing more.

"What was it you called her?"

Samuk was puzzled. "What, Molly? That's her name, isn't it?"

"Mmnh." He watched as the streets thinned, and pondered on the meaning of this revelation. He couldn't say he was surprised...

The road made a sharp turn, and before his eyes the buildings flourished. The muck and mire of the market disappeared, and the dress of those who passed them by dramatically improved. They were moving up in the world.

They gathered briefly at a fence that encircled a small garden, and once the couple open the gate and passed through, Samuk went on ahead. Rais lingered in the garden; he could see Molly go through the front door of the cottage. Samuk and Rais were clearly acquainted—they made small talk, joked briefly about the wedding procession going on.

"Well, here it is," Rais announced, an arm clapping against the broad side of a barrel. "The gift for the couple. They should make good use of it."

"What, a barrel?"

Rais snorted a laugh. "I was referring to the wine inside of it, but if you think the barrel's enough, we can empty it between the two of us."

Ganondorf stared, petrified, at the doorway. The horses had been whisked away by a servant before he could he even object.

"Are you coming in?"

He would have liked the chance to sit down and think on it for a good while. He went over it as many times as he could, but it all arrived at once, and he found himself completely blanking. There were too many factors to consider—too many reasons that this could go badly, and he would be better off leaving.

But he couldn't begin to explain it. He opted for the path of least resistance. "In a moment."

The others went inside. He stood alone for a moment, the gate closed behind him, a humble array of potted flowers on the ground. His foot nudged against one of them; it rattled, shook as if in silent protest, then went still. His mind went numb.

He could tell that Rais did not approve of his presence, and it didn't surprise him. By this time he was pretty sure Rais was Molly's husband, and no husband would be calm upon discovering a man from his wife's past. Rais's single eye glazed with suspicion, obviously trying to figure out exactly how they knew each other—a love interest? A relative?

But Molly and Samuk did their part in keeping him calm and eventually coaxing him from the living room, where Ganondorf was absorbed in a painting that hung on the wall, his last desperate attempt at sanity. He could tell it was a cheap piece, typical of a middle-class person hoping to show off their taste.

"My goddess," he heard to his right, and, startled, he turned to see that he, too, was being studied. Molly stood stoic, almost pained, in the doorway, finger smoothing along her lower lip. "Samuk didn't tell me—he only said he had a visitor we should meet. He couldn't have known..."

Ganondorf smoothed his hair back with his fingers, an unconscious reflex to his thoughts on their similar features. It was no wonder they seemed so incensed by his appearance.

"...Where have you... I thought you were dead."

"That must have been a comforting thought."

Those were his first words to her after nearly a decade.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, voice shaking.

"I could ask you the same thing." He grew uncomfortable with her expression and her various nervous twitches, so he looked back to the painting and queried boredly, "He's your husband, then?"

It was a safe, easy question; the sort of question he already knew the answer to. "Rais? Yes." He could hear her hesitate and then murmur to herself, "The poor thing."

"You feel _sorry_ for him? Whatever for?"

She didn't seem prepared to defend her sentiments. "You don't know him, but—he was a drifter before I met him, and..."

"And you coddled him and got yourself into a pity marriage. I understand--_Molly_."

She turned away.

"That's what you call yourself now."

"It's really the same thing," she retorted. "There's hardly any difference--"

/There's _every_ difference. But I'm not surprised; you of anyone would bastardize your own name./

When she did not reply, he thought she was stunned and ashamed of the truths with which he had derided her, but when he saw her face, he found an emotion that disturbed him even more. She was completely uncomprehending.

He had spoken in Gerudo, and she didn't understand him. She had _forgotten _her mother language. If he thought himself relatively calm before, this was the incitement of his rage. The men entered the room again, so he kept his disapproval quiet; she gave him a glance that implied she knew now how distant they were from one another, and then offered him some tea.

* * *

"_Mahli, stop that now._"

Her nails, frayed from the work of her teeth, were quickly removed from her lips. Her mouth moved and puckered in an expression of tense boredom. Her wide eyes circled the long wall, which to the young girl seemed immense and intimidating. It would not be long now; her fate was to be decided in the next room.

"_Mahli, you must remember to be respectful._"

She knew this already, but adults could not help but lecture her. At the shy age of thirteen, she had already developed a reputation as a finicky girl without much hope as a warrior. She cried at the sight of blood and stiffened at the slightest danger, and was a favorite topic among the Gerudo—they were fascinated by the anomalies in their bloodline, and everyone had their own theory.

She was a soft, and somewhat stupid, heart.

The sounds of deliberation carried through the passageway; an older woman was speaking in a careful tone, and a male voice replied. Mahli could not bear the mystery of it and leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the exchange. Before she could manage it, the steely woman sitting beside her stood to her feet, and Mahli scrambled to follow.

She recognized the Gerudo who stood proudly before the tabernacle inside; she was known to all of the Gerudo as the chief-in-command—the effective Queen. Mahli's legs buckled beneath her, and if it were not for the guards heckling her, she may not have succeeded in crossing the room on foot.

"M-madam Malati!" Years of training forced her to her knees, ready to grovel.

However, the stern complexion of the Queen faded once Mahli's presence was realized. "Ah, so you have arrived. Please, stand." Mahli, with great trepidation, obeyed, but her eyes remained on the floor. "Dearest child, you must have felt great anxiety as you were brought here today. I have been told much about you."

Mahli's eyes strayed to her right, where she could see from the corner of her eye another figure standing close by. She peeked and found herself, to her horror, in the presence of the Prince. What was _he _doing here?

"All races—indeed, even creatures—have children that do not seem, at first, to have a place. We cannot expect to have a culture as we do and not come across some who are frustrated by it. You are something of a black sheep, but I cannot ask you to change anymore than I can ask the Sun to stand still. Do you understand?"

The Prince looked much smaller than she had imagined him. He was still very young—not even twelve—and he was lanky and awkward. He focused on the wall opposite to him, not even giving Mahli a moment's glance. There were no emotions betrayed; if she had to guess from his demeanor, it would seem nothing of significance was about to happen.

"As you know, the Prince has to undergo intense training before he can become King. He is isolated from his people and has little time to mingle with others. You have shown that you possess some nurturing qualities, and so I hope that will excel in this favor I ask of you.

"I have seen it in many societies: the eccentric ones, if treated properly, can be the visionaries. Be our Prince's vision; work with him so that he may, someday, possess the strange wisdom and sympathy you carry. You will be responsible for keeping our Prince, our someday King, soft in heart..."

* * *

Ganondorf had already removed himself from the table where the men amiably chatted. He excused himself in favor of checking on Molly as she worked in the kitchen.

He approached the agape doorway and heard the busy clatter of knives and steam. When he looked inside, his heart went cold—for there she stood, hair tied back in knots, sleeves rolled back, an apron caked with flour draped over her swollen belly. Her hands worked steadily with each tool, employing serious skill and giving him the impression that she accepted this as a demanding occupation. She cut fat from a slab of meat while a pot of water boiled behind her on a stove, and the heat and grease rose in the room until her arms and forehead alike were slick with oils.

He had no words to express how terrible it felt to see a woman of his tribe worked like a commoner.

Molly finally noticed him there, but only gave him a quick look before returning to her cutting. "Are you staying for dinner?"

He made no answer.

"It won't be ready for a while" she deadpanned.

"Don't you have a servant to do this for you?" he asked suddenly.

She wiped her hands on her apron, smiled half-heartedly. "I like to cook. It makes me feel more at home." She pointed over her shoulder at something against a wall. Ganondorf turned to look, and found, to his surprise, baskets teeming with peppers, vegetables, and spices, all native to the Gerudo desert and very familiar to him. The tension in Molly's voice finally lifted. "Aren't they heartbreaking? I have to ship them in to get my hands on them. My husband used to complain how expensive it was, but he's fallen in love with it, too. I can't blame him. Hylian food is so desperately bland."

He only heard a part of what she said, for he, too, was entranced by the ingredients' familiarity. He realized he hadn't seen any of it in almost a decade. Her talk of feeling at home rang true.

Ganondorf watched silently as she gathered the spices together. She slit open a pepper, the soft pulp inside tinting the air with a caustic smell. The men in the parlor smoked. Their eyes watered.

* * *

Mahli had searched for Ganondorf all morning and just now began to tire of it. Why couldn't she ever _find_ that boy? Whenever she thought she had figured out his pattern of movement, he would (perhaps in an attempt to escape her pestering) find someplace else. He wasn't in his room, or the throne-room, or the dining hall—she was stalking along the outer corridor, prepared to head to the library.

"--Are you looking for me?" a very unimpressed voice questioned, startling her terribly.

Mahli gasped and spun around. Sure enough, the Prince sat callously at a windowsill, draped in his books. "D-don't do that!" she whined, knowing well that he would never listen to her. "Why can't I ever find you?"

He snorted. "You don't pay any attention."

"Have you reported to Malati yet?"

"No."

"Well, shouldn't you get _going?_"

He carefully placed his book at his side and looked at her as if she were a stranger. "I don't care what that witch has to say. She can wait."

Mahli expected this attitude, and it no longer surprised her, but the way he expressed even his deepest loathing still unnerved her. His expression was always tense and cold, and his hatred seemed precise and steady, untouched by real emotion. It had taken years for the boy to finally start speaking—before then, he had been too ill to do so—but Mahli decided she would have preferred him mute. He never said anything cute or heartwarming. He spoke in short, brief sentences punctuated by hints of hostility and impatience.

Ganondorf finally accepted Mahli's presence for the time being and returned to another book. Mahli knew he would not be moved, so she took a seat across from him and stared out the window.

"Ganon?"

"What?"

"Do you ever wonder what the rest of the world is like?"

"I already know," he responded flatly, not even looking up from his reading. "I've read all about it."

"But the other races—aren't you eager to meet them?"

Ganondorf, now appalled, put down his book. "Why would I be? They're either lazy, stupid, or fiendish."

Mahli's eyes wandered the long landscape, dipped along the sand dunes, traced the borders of her personal world. She couldn't resist her prickling imagination, nor could she push away the desire to leave behind a land so woefully unsuited for her. "I should think it exciting."

"Silly girl. Even outsiders wouldn't like you."

She blushed hotly and retorted, "Shut up!"

He ignored her, but her fantastic thoughts remained, circling her brow and weighing her down.

* * *

Dinner was served, but it was an awkwardly quiet meal. Rais and Samuk had exhausted topics of interest, and Ganondorf was nowhere near chatty.

"Food's good," Samuk volunteered. Ganondorf had noticed this, too—the dish was a culinary hybrid, a mix of Gerudo spice with a normally dull Hylian recipe.

Molly thanked him politely and poured their drinks.

Although Ganondorf spoke very little over the entire meal, he was experiencing a number of unprecedented emotions.

The first was worry. A part of him knew it was his mind looking desperately for excuses to think beyond his current state, but as if an alien force had put him up to it, he thought about Link. He imagined the boy alone in some strange home, ill and unsure of his fate. He did not feel pity, at least not in particular, but Link's illness still felt like his own, and should the boy get any worse...

The worst of it, though, came when he returned to Mahli—Molly. He had always sensed in her a restlessness that would lead her to betray her identity, whore herself out to foreigners in an attempt to find a happiness she never deserved. After their exchange in the kitchen, he almost came to forgive her, but the more he thought of her, the more he was enraged. She dressed like a Hylian, acted like one, spoke like one, even smelled like one. And then, to add insult to injury, she was _happy_.

Ganondorf bitterly considered his own lot. He had fought years to improve the condition of his people. He had obliged in every tradition, even the ones that stifled his own enjoyment. He had progressed his race rapidly and taken revenge for all the wrongs Hylians had cast on them. He spoke Gerudo, knew their history and their lands, could recite Gerudo poetry and stories, and could sing their proud, boastful ballads. He was, just as the King was supposed to be, a pinnacle of their culture.

Yet, if the Gerudo had to choose between Molly and Ganondorf, he knew they would not choose him.

How was that _fair_? How was that even close to _right?_

When dinner ended, Ganondorf was more than ready to leave. The experience hadn't lead him to any great personal conclusion, nor taught him any valuable life lesson; thus far, it had only reminded him of the many grudges he held against his own people, his sisters, traitors all like Mahli.

He found himself once again at the painting in the hallway, but his mind proved too scattered to even give it another study. He found book lying on end tables and dully flipped through them as he waited for a proper leave. He nearly considered leaving without word. He didn't owe any of these people, and it wasn't as if...

His fingers came across something different from the other books. His eyes strayed and found a nameless leather-bound journal—it fell open to reveal the inky scribbles of one whose native language was slowly passing from memory, replaced by an elegant Hylian script punctuated by strange accents and exotic tones. It was another mutant of this household; no less a mutant than the child that would soon occupy this home.

Molly finally showed, and did not admonish him for his invasion of her privacy.

"You're no doubt wondering why I left," Molly sighed. "You think I did this because I hate my homeland, but that isn't true. There isn't a day that passes that I don't think... I would rather be there. But there was nothing for me at home. We used to be such a proud race... We prospered, had children without the help of men... But those days are so long ago. No Gerudo has conceived without a Hylian's involvement for years. Our blood runs thin; even you have Hylian in you. Ever since you left, I couldn't help but see how desperate we were. Soon, maybe within a few generations, everything we love will be... gone."

He could almost feel the ink trickling down his palms, a soggy, sorry testament. He was so baffled that he couldn't bring himself to speak against her, even though it was nonsense. Apocalyptic nonsense! Gerudo blood wasn't something to be watered down! What was she prophesying? That their race would soon be nothing but a faint hue swimming in an ocean of Hylian blood? He couldn't imagine anything more alarmist and ridiculous.

"But it doesn't matter... because... Soon we will be a part of everything. I understood that after some time. And if my race must die... Then it will. But I can give my blood to my children, and I plan to teach them some words that I can remember, and Gerudo stories, and songs..."

_I laugh at myself sometimes, because I imagine that someday, after many generations, little Hylian children will say Gerudo words to their parents and sing about the beauty of the desert... What will it matter then, if we are there or not?_

_ ...Ganondorf, I... When you left, despite everything, I was beside myself. I feel foolish admitting this... That even then, I... Had feelings for you._

* * *

Ganondorf couldn't restrain his disgust. To witness the embarrassing condition of the girl was ghastly enough, but now that everything had been revealed, his humiliation was thorough. He could not meet anyone with his eyes; he ducked outside, blindly took hold of his property and horses, and stormed out onto the street.

The fact that he didn't know the way back didn't deter him, though it did slow him down considerably. Nightfall descended quickly, and any turns that he normally would have remembered became dark. The city chilled in both body and soul—his attempts at getting directions proved difficult as the populace was fidgety and nervous. He at last pinned one person who knew Samuk and was willing to direct him.

When he arrived at the house, his heart was heavy. He had spent a day doing not much more than entertaining old, unwanted memories and salvaging a relationship he never cared for, a heap of stressful conversations with little return. A day wasted, not in idleness but in the busyness of futile regrets. In a proper story, he thought, this day would have reaped emotional reward, taught him a tremendous life lesson, allowed him to let go of something he still dragged along with him.

But now he felt burdened and confused. He hadn't yet come to terms with the reality of his situation, but now it lay bare: the world that he knew—indeed, the very time-line of events he had experienced—was not here. That Molly was in this city, speaking longingly of days gone by, believing that Ganondorf had abandoned them... It felt surreal until he reminded himself that he was walking in an alternate reality.

If they were in the other time, the time he knew well, he doubted she would speak so sorrowfully about his disappearance...

* * *

_Pitter patter pitter patter_

The darkness before him swelled with air; as he came to he realized it was the surface of his pillow. He gazed into it a while longer, hoping he would fall asleep again. He wondered, absently, what had stirred him awake.

_Pitter patter..._

Rain? After listening for a while, the timbre of the sound proved too wooden to be dripping water, and in fact the clamor was happening right outside his door. It eventually forced him to get up in hopes of silencing the perpetrator—he needed his sleep!--and he shambled over to the door, quite optimistic that he could quickly put a stop to it.

The door was opened, and all at once a glint of light passed down the hall, the echoes of footsteps following its path. The person who carried the light seemed no more than a shadow ducking in the dark of the evening, an indistinguishable critter. Ganondorf rubbed his drowsy eyes and stepped out into the hall, startling a woman who stood on the other side of the door. Instead of apologizing or even vocalizing her surprise, she bowed her head and scuttled away.

No one remained for him to scold. His mind still rolled in a stupor, and though he tried to think of a reason why everyone was on edge, nothing came easily. Dark passageways, lanterns, women who did not speak...

Link was not doing well. What might have been a small flicker of hope turned out to be an anomaly, and as suddenly as he seemed to recover, a chill settled in his flesh. His limbs churned as if he were submerged in water, his skin clammy, breath increasingly desperate. He could hear the shuffle of feet as two servants tried to tend to his condition, but they failed to understand what he was ailing from, and so they feared touching him. One left a bowl of water, tepidly pushed to his side; another fixed him some medicines and left them within arm's reach. He could not make use of either—his mind flowed with delusions and nonsense. It had in fact gotten so bad that Ganondorf's sudden arrival was a _good omen_.

"Link? What's going on?" The man impatiently sent away the nearby servant, cursing her and straining his eyes in the darkness. "Aren't you doing any better, already?"

Link shot up in response to the familiar voice, but his mood hadn't changed. He moaned and smeared the perspiration from his brow. "I'm not going to get better."

The floor rumbled as Ganondorf approached and leaned in to get a closer look. "What are you talking about?" he asked irritably. "Of course you are."

"I'm being punished."

Ganon momentarily ignored him and begrudgingly touched the boy's forehead. The skin was near scalding, but more alarming was the sudden, unprecedented reaction to the touch; as if possessed, Link's lungs collapsed and his eyes rolled back into his head. "H-hey!" Ganondorf, by sheer reflex, yanked his hand back and swore vehemently. Link, without anything to support him, flopped back onto the floor, shaking as he did. It took a few moments before his eyes corrected and his breathing returned to normal, but those few seconds were enough to shake the certainty out of Ganon.

In the dim light coming from the window, Ganondorf could see adequately, but with this new revelation, he felt a need for more light. He stepped of the room to ask for a candle, and when he returned, he uneasily took a seat. He knew he wasn't playing nurse, but he couldn't leave--not without making a decision. Goddesses--planning was his strong point, why couldn't he think of anything now?

Link was flat on his back, eyes wide and looking blankly at the ceiling. His breathing had quieted, but his chest was fluttering and his nostrils flared.

_Maybe if I just talk._ "Are you awake?" It seemed like a silly question, but the boy didn't look responsive.

Link closed his eyes. "Yes."

"So..." Ganondorf nudged the candle closer. "You said you're being punished."

"The goddesses are punishing me. That's why I'm going to die."

"For what crime, exactly?"

Link's face contorted in frustration. "There are so many."

Ganondorf highly doubted that, but he decided to play along. "You really think so?"

"I _know_ so. You have no idea what I've done."

The Gerudo sighed heavily. "Link, if there is one thing I know, it is that I am not the person onto whom you should unload a confession." Link didn't seem to have a reply. Ganondorf hesitated before following up his comment. "If the goddesses are starting to smite people, why, do you think, did they not start with me?"

The silence and stillness was so ghastly that Ganondorf nearly thought Link had fallen asleep. He watched Link's expression intently, and in the low light he could see true signs of wear. What sunlight disguised and blended into the boy's toned skin, the candlelight now clarified; all the worn ridges, scars, and disfigurements of war emerged at the surface of his face. He looked twenty years older.

"How's your leg?" Ganondorf suddenly queried, though if presented the chance, he wouldn't have leapt to examine it.

Link's head turned lazily. "I can't feel it."

"What? Still?"

Link answered, "For a while." Ganondorf feebly tried to think of something to say, and Link seemed to mull over something before admitting guiltily, "I don't think I can move it, either."

"_Goddesses_." It had been some time since he had been released from Link's senses, and he was again reminded precisely how thankful he was for it. They both were thinking the same thing; Ganondorf shuddered mostly from relief that he was safe from the effects of the procedure.

"We shouldn't bother. I'm going to die--removing my leg won't save me," Link instructed patiently, his speech calm to the point of becoming unnerving.

Ganondorf dismissed his worries. "I told you, you're not going to die. Besides, plenty of people get along with one leg."

But even Ganon knew it would not do. Besides the gruesome things an amputation entailed (which he could no doubt endure with ease), he was not about to escort an amputee about, and he was almost certain a person who loses a limb can't be moved within less than a week. This complicated things.

A girl opened the door, and he recognized her as Samuk's sister. He immediately stood to his feet, looking impatiently at what she brought. After a short moment of staring, he began to rage.

"Show me what you've given to him," he snarled. He was feeling uncharacteristically persecuted and paranoid; he was ready to take it out on someone.

The girl was stunned and confused. "Pardon?"

"_The medicine!_ I want to see what you've been giving him!"

"I--"

"--You know, he was just fine before he came here! The past few days he was all right, up and walking, but now all of the sudden he's _swooning_! What useless junk have you been treating him with?"

His eyes fell to her arms, in which she carried several jars. Without hesitation, he attempted to wrestle them away from her. She yelped in surprise and protested that nothing was wrong.

A jar struck the floor and shattered.

"Is something the matter?" Samuk stepped in through the doorway, and Ganondorf backed away as if nothing had happened.

"You're not giving him the right treatment," he bitterly accused, not knowing himself what the right treatment would be.

"What makes you think that?"

"He's getting worse and you aren't doing anything about it! Do you realize he's going to lose his leg on your watch? Is that what you call a recovery?"

Samuk gave him a peculiar look and shook his head. "He's not going to lose his leg. He is this way because the infection has spread. We have moved past the point when that would have done any good." The man soberly turned to his sister, quietly placing a hand on her shoulder and dismissing her. "Besides," he continued, "if neglect has truly been a factor, then you should look no further than yourself."

"You're going to blame me? That's _rich_," Ganon snarled.

"Had he gotten help earlier--"

"--Had he _told me_ earlier, then sure. But perhaps you don't understand something. I'm not his father; I'm not his friend; I'm especially not his physician. His problems are not mine."

"That must be convenient for you," Samuk mused, "but it doesn't really explain why you are so upset."

He did not respond with words; instead he roared and shattered the frame of the doorway with one fist. The noise ricocheted through the walls, disturbing everyone--he could hear startled whispers in the hallway as he stalked away, bleeding and stuck with splinters. No one pursued him.

He sat in his room, digging the wood out of his knuckles and pondering his--and Link's--fate.

* * *

He must have dozed off and started to dream, because all he could remember of the next hour was another bird scratching the floorboards and cawing impatiently. His arms waved in its general direction, a lame attempt at shooing it away, but like an illusion, it was unshaken by his motions.

It eventually disappeared from sight, dimmed back into the shadows from whence it came. Relieved of the sound and disturbing flutters, he fell asleep for another hour.

After he finished his fitful, restless sleep, he sat up and immediately to think things through. He put all that he knew for certain in one place: Link was ill, and not likely to get any better. He didn't have any resources at hand to fix the problem. And Lethe, for all he knew...

What _was_ Lethe's intent here? Ganondorf had thought on this previously, but it still made no sense. Was this some sort of test? As far as he had been told, Lethe wanted Link alive, but the being had also not offered any help thus far. In his latent frustration, he stood to pace about the room. But his bare feet kicked something inadvertently, sending a small, glassy object skidding across the floorboards. It ricocheted weightlessly off of the distant wall and rolled to a stop at a near corner, right beneath his bed. Normally, he would have disregarded such a thing—it might have been inconsequential shrapnel left over from a previous guest—but he was compelled by some strange feeling, as if he knew it belonged to him, and found himself pawing underneath the bed to find it.

When his fingers at last reached it, he pulled himself up, wheezing from dust, feeling its form in his hand. It was much smaller than he anticipated, and upon examination, he couldn't identify its purpose. It was glass, to be sure—almost like a marble, glistening a dark blue color.

It was distinct, small, misshapen slightly... He rolled it along his palm, watching as the color at its core seemed to warp in the moonlight, flicker with hidden life...

His dreams became familiar to him all at once, and he could remember that the crow had brought this here as a gift. Had he simply forgotten? Was he imagining things? Yet he couldn't push away the instinctual knowledge that this was his, and not only that, but it was something he had once misplaced.

He loved it, but he did not know what it was, or what it was for.

_It was an abyss clutched between his fingers, but a comforting one—an emptiness that kept him company. That night when he slept with it tucked in a pocket against his chest, he dreamed of a cold, glossy field of grass, a still autumn night without a cloud obscuring the glittering night sky. He was freezing; his entire body convulsed from the wet chill passing over the ground. Yet the cold was his friend in this place... He swallowed it and it numbed his throat and stomach—he breathed it and his lungs felt like they were flooded with water—and he felt so__** alive**__._

_Wake up._

Still drowsy, he opened a single eyes.

_Do as I say. Take the boy out of his room. You will bring him to Mahli._

When he realized who was speaking to him, he roused himself. "...What? Now?"

It was strange, how casually he spoke to it now.

_Yes. There is no time to lose. She has the resources you need. If you want him to live, for now, that is what you will do._

His dreams had been so intense that night that he almost mistook this exchange for one, so even when he pushed himself out of bed, he was disoriented and dizzy.

_--hurry---sluggish old man--_

"Shut up," he mumbled, rubbing his brow and nearly walking into a wall. Where was that candle? His hand swooped through the dark, knocking a number of things over in the process. He started to curse. It was only after he stood still and allowed his mind to catch up that he realized what corner of the room he was in.

Feeling a bit senile, he found the candle, lit it, and carried it as he shuffled out the door.

The women of the house thought he was drunk or deluded. He gave no reason for entering Link's room and, rather forcefully, prying him out of bed. Link himself, awakened by the extremely unwelcome sensation of being grabbed, was so startled that he socked the man in the jaw; Ganondorf didn't seem to have any particular response to this other than backing off and mumbling something under his breath.

"What the hell?" Link sputtered, not even sure who he just struck.

"Relax. We're going to a real doctor."

Link didn't seem reassured, and his eyes darted about the room. "Is that you, Ganon? What are you _doing_?"

Ganon didn't want to have to repeat himself, so instead of answering, he pondered on ways to knock the boy out, making the matter of transport simpler. _A knock on the head might work, _he acknowledged, though at this point it wouldn't help his condition.

He looked Link over and found him in dire straits, mostly suffering from a fever. This gave him an idea. It wouldn't knock him out, but it might keep him still. "You look a little flushed," he observed, his fingers searching his front pocket. "Hold this."

"What..." The jewel rolled to a stop in Link's shaking palm, and his fingers clutched to it in a sudden, unexplained protectiveness. Ganondorf, after a moment, regretted handing it over. Goddesses, was he really feeling jealous all of the sudden? Link started to murmur as his hand examined it. "...What's this? A pebble?"

Ganondorf thought perhaps it wouldn't have the same effect on Link as it had on him; he was eager--perhaps a little too eager--to take it back. But it proved to be a false impression, and Link's reaction changed.

His eyes grew, and his breathing tensed. "Wh... Is this magic? Where did you get it?"

Not wanting to give the answer 'I found it on the ground,' Ganondorf ignored him and instructed a nearby servant to prepare their horse.

"Really, where did you..."

"Just don't lose it," Ganon retorted crankily, stooping down to finish what he started.

* * *

Mahli was only mildly surprised to have someone knocking on her door at this peculiar hour. When she recognized Ganondorf, she held her composure and politely asked what he needed.

"You wouldn't happen to be able to do some healing, would you?"

Mahli's face glowed from the fire inside her home, making her appear more severe and wrathful than she really was. He was prepared to be disappointed. "What sort of healing?"

Ganondorf started to edge in through the door, encouraged by the admittedly vague response. "Well, you see..." Realizing he had forgotten something, he turned around and opened the front gate. A horse and a very sickly rider approached.

Ganon could tell that Mahli was conflicted. He could only imagine why. Inside the house, Rais heaved and asked who was at the door.

"No one," Mahli said. Her expression didn't even flicker. "Can they come in?"

Link had been resettled in a vacant room, and Ganondorf couldn't leave fast enough. Mahli understood his disgust, though she didn't sympathize with it--she could remember how even very early on he was unsettled by the dying. He preferred the sight and touch of living or dead, rather than those poor critters that lingered in between. She used to think he was afraid that he might catch it, as if he perceived it as a disease, but sometimes she had thought he was just a man who couldn't deal with the realities of common life. Kings do not deal with the dying; they do not mingle with them as if they were somehow vulnerable to the human state.

Kings die, but they do not rot like the rest of them.

The boy was only barely awake. She knelt next to his slumbering body and pulled toward her whatever herbs she could gather at this hour--she would brew a potion later. The news that the potion may take several hours had unnecessarily irritated Ganon, who was now pressed beyond reason to push onward. He was satisfied when she informed him that Link would be healthy by the next day, but as usual, he started to poke holes in her time-line and challenging her ability to accomplish such a thing. She tired of it and informed him she was not a god, and he snapped that he had merely expected to work with a healer who wasn't horrible at their job.

That was when he left. She did not hide her relief.

Her distracting thoughts were broken by Link's shifting body. He shivered deeply, fell still, then opened his eyes in startling clarity. "Am I at a doctor?"

"Oh...? I suppose that's close enough," Mahli answered. She suddenly wondered what Ganon had told this boy. "What's your name?"

"Link."

She said nothing; Link could hear her shock permeate through the silence.

"You know who I am?"

"Well, that can't..." Mahli wiped his forehead and murmured in frustration. "...You're saying, you're _the..._"

"What's your name?" Link interrupted.

She nearly contradicted him, but decided against it. "It's Molly. Don't worry about a thing. We'll have you on your feet soon."

Link didn't appear particularly interested. His head swayed, disrupted by a sudden barrage of thoughts. He whispered something, something she had to ask him to repeat. "I can hear your accent," he was saying, a few loose words in Gerudo floating past his lips.

"I don't... I'm sorry."

I know your people, and their magic, but I know so little about artifacts... Please...

Mahli only comprehended a few of the words, and tried to make him slow down, but he was too ill to heed her pleas. His left hand, clenched in a fist, nudged against her leg, then against her arm. He kept repeating a slurred phrase in Gerudo over and over, until at last Mahli grabbed his hand and he dropped a small stone into hers.

Is this magic? Is this magic?

She thought it was a gift at first, and she cradled it in the cusp of her hands, a little confused.

When I held it, just now, I had an amazing dream--It was as if I lived a moment of someone's life, as if the memory were my own...

"S-slow down, Link, I can't understand you."

His voice rose and rasped, a harshness inhabiting his words that was not there before. Is this magic? Where did this come from? Could Ganondorf have made it?

She heard Ganondorf's name and looked back at the small jewel. At first she thought it was glowing, but it was a trick of the eye; no, it was merely flickering abstract light. What was it about this innocent object that was causing such a reaction?

Please, I need to know.

"I'm going to be right back," Mahli carefully explained, ignoring his increasingly agitated attempts at communicating.

Her husband was waiting patiently in the living room; she came out looking disheartened. "Is Ganon still here?"

Rais dumbly nodded, pointing in the direction of the kitchen. She readied herself for a conflict and headed straight in. She found the man leaning against the table, staring out the window.

"You haven't left yet?"

Ganondorf turned to acknowledge her. "I want to be sure everything is settled." He then gave her a suspicious look, since he doubted she had come to him for a simple chat.

"Ganon, what's this?" She held the stone up in the air between two fingers.

He gave her a sarcastic look. "It's a rock," he said, over-emphasizing each syllable.

"Did you give this to him?"

"Is there something wrong with giving someone a pebble?"

She wasn't convinced. "I've never seen anything like this. Where did you find it?"

"Good goddesses, _Mahli_, it's just something I came across. Is there something fantastic about it that I missed?"

"Link was raving about it, like it was disturbing him."

"He is a tad ill and delusional," Ganondorf responded flatly. "Are you quite finished?"

Mahli stood absolutely still, staring at him in as deeply an offended manner as she could muster. He was lying to her, she was certain, but she had no way of prying the truth from him. He would only laugh, scoff at her, make her feel like a fool.

Her eyes burned, though she knew it was foolish, and said at last, "Should I throw it away?"

"Just give it to me," he replied quickly, sounding a little annoyed by her persistence and moving in to snatch it.

She decided against fighting it.

Link's memory of the previous night didn't serve him well; about all he got out of the affair was a pounding headache. At least the bed, wherever he was, was more comfortable than what he remembered having to sleep on before.

He could recall clearly the conclusion he reached last night upon hearing the woman's voice.

"So, you are Gerudo?"

"Yes," she answered. He could tell she told him this before, and was a little embarrassed about it.

He was feeling better. No, he was feeling _more _than better. His leg sizzled with repressed energy and the wonderful soreness of healing. A patch of sunlight smoothed his cheek.

"Do you know Ganondorf?"

"Of cou--"

"Is he all right?"

Mahli bit her lip and said, a bit puzzled, "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. It's only that he doesn't do well without me around to help."

Mahli sat there dumbfounded for a while, then started to laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She sighed and wiped her eyes. It was just that the man was so _serious_ as he said that...

"So is he?"

"He's fine," she answered only half-honestly. To be honest, she couldn't be sure. Ganondorf's mood was typically a poor indicator of how he was faring.

"And you?"

When she didn't give him a reply, he sighed and shifted his feet, sliding down the bed and preparing to stand. She rebuffed him. "Woah! Are you really sure you want to--"

Link turned his head, blank marble eyes staring into her with more reassurance than she ever before seen. "Ma'am, thank you for everything. But I really need to go. People are waiting for me."

Ganondorf could not be brought from his foul mood, even in hearing the news that they were leaving the town. Link had grown flippant and unwieldy, apparently determined to keep him from following.

"There's really nothing for you out where I'm headed. You'd be better off elsewhere."

But he was no stray dog to be shooed away when his slobbering ceased to be amusing. Where Link moved, so did he. As far as he was concerned, this was how destiny had been determined.

Mahli's last gesture toward them was a gift of food and drink, supplies for the road, and, after considerable upheaval in a tiny drawing room, the recovery of an item she thought could serve them well.

"It's an old Gerudo incantation, as I recall," she explained, handing it to Ganondorf. It was stained in patterns of light and wear, but carefully drawn out from articulated memory. "It's a simple healing spell. It isn't very good for complicated matters, but it should help stop things from getting out of hand."

He grudgingly accepted.

"Healing isn't your specialty, is it?"

He disregarded her sly look and stuffed the paper away. "As you know, I have very specific talents."

Ganondorf wondered if this bothered him. Had it? Would it soon?

Would sleep come easy?

He supposed it would. Hadn't it before?

_No, nothing is different. Circumstances have changed, but not my feelings._

The day opened like the gaping mouth of a beggar--vast, humid, and bringing with it a clear and unnerving smell. Link was quick to make the observation that weddings overflowed with wine and beer, and so the stench could be from a number of rather upsetting sources. Ganondorf tried not to think about it. He just remained thankful they were moving on.

To go in the direction they intended, they had to weave back and through more channels of human grime. Men staggered, and women sat on barrels and fanned themselves, puffing relieved breaths. It was a final rejoined sigh, a sentiment that Ganondorf could share with the city, in spite of all the trouble.

The city's walls rolled back like a curtain, and he felt, at last, the beginning of something else. Time mercilessly marched forward in its tyrannical reign, and he joined with animal and Hylian alike, even catching himself humming old Gerudo ballads in the face of what was soon to change.

His lips drew back, little curls of air weaving through his teeth. Then it puffed out his cheeks, swam beneath his tongue, wrestled into his gaping lungs; he felt it overcome him like a spirit, and he and the horse shivered alike. Who could fight this? he thought. Mahli had delusions of grandeur and mastery, as if she could, single-handed, save his people from the whittling hand of fate.

Would the Gerudo be reduced to relics? He doubted it. He had bore witness to all their wideness and scape, and all their passions charged with song. Such strength could not be rubbed out.

But even he did not entertain the fantasy of consistency. Their power ebbed and flowed. There would be times when it all felt doomed. The key is to expect it, accept it.

...Mahli.

All thoughts circled back to her.

That she threw herself at his feet--first between the world and his desires, and now between a race that rejected her and the decay of time--now made all the more sense to him. She had always been that sacrificial lamb, a body shield. With no exceptional qualities to her character, she had no choice but to spend it all on that which was worthy. With no qualms, she handed herself over to dogs.

Sweet, beloved Mahli; she would be welcomed by her sisters in the afterlife, enclosed in their embrace, her noble suffering lifted.

Sweet Mahli; he remembered her, and the one day that he declare he could make the Gerudo nature great, and she stepped out to call him mad, as if she had a right to do so.

He remember how gravity made everything so easy to fall, so easy when the time came.

Oh, he could remember it! That evening was especially sweet, close to his heart... The words were still mealy in his mouth, as if they had always been there, rolling gravelly beneath his tongue.

He remembered that night, and how determined and relieved he felt when it was over. She had brought him such trouble and heartbreak, that he found himself in no position to bargain, and for her, he made his first command as King.

He remembered that glorious, peaceful night when he ordered her execution.


End file.
